...... 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


The   Circular  Study 


By 
ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN 


(Mrs.  Charles  RoklfsT) 


NEW  YORK 

McCLURE,  PHILLIPS   &   CO. 

1900 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,  BY 
ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN  ROHLFS 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK   I.— A   STRANGE  CRIME. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — RED  LIGHT, 3 

II. — MYSTERIES, n 

III. — THE  MUTE  SERVITOR,    .         .        .         .23 

IV. — A  NEW  EXPERIENCE  FOR  MR.  GRYCE,    .     30 

V. — FIVE  SMALL  SPANGLES,  .        .         .42 

VI. — SUGGESTIONS  FROM  AN  OLD  FRIEND,     .     62 

VII.— AMOS'S  SON, 83 

VIII. — IN  THE  ROUND  OF  THE  STAIRCASE,       .     98 

IX. — HIGH  AND  Low, 114 

X. — BRIDE  ROSES, 122 

XI. — MISERY, 143 

XII. — THOMAS  EXPLAINS,         .        .        .         .158 

XIII. — DESPAIR, 164 

XIV. — MEMORANDA, 174 

BOOK   II.— REMEMBER   EVELYN. 
I. — THE  SECRET  OF  THE  CADWALADERS,      .  181 

II.— THE  OATH, 206 

III.— EVA, 217 

IV. — FELIX, 253 

V. — WHY  THE   IRON   SLIDE  REMAINED  STA 
TIONARY,     .         .        .  .        .  259 

VI. — ANSWERED, 280 

VII.— LAST  WORDS, 286 


BOOK    I 
A  STRANGE  CRIME 


THE    CIRCULAR    STUDY. 


BOOK    I 
A  STRANGE  CRIME 


CHAPTER  I. 

RED  LIGHT. 

MR.  GRYCE  was  melancholy.  He  had  attained 
that  period  in  life  when  the  spirits  flag  and  enthu 
siasm  needs  a  constant  spur,  and  of  late  there  had 
been  a  lack  of  special  excitement,  and  he  felt  dull 
and  superannuated.  He  was  even  contemplating 
resigning  his  position  on  the  force  and  retiring  to 
the  little  farm  he  had  bought  for  himself  in  West- 
chester;  and  this  in  itself  did  not  tend  to  cheerful 
ness,  for  he  was  one  to  whom  action  was  a  neces 
sity  and  the  exercise  of  his  mental  faculties  more 
inspiring  than  any  possible  advantage  which  might 
accrue  to  him  from  their  use. 
1  3 


The  Circular  Study- 
But  he  was  not  destined  to  carry  out  this  im 
pulse  yet.  For  just  at  the  height  of  his  secret 
dissatisfaction  there  came  a  telephone  message  to 
Headquarters  which  roused  the  old  man  to  some 
thing  like  his  former  vigor  and  gave  to  the  close 
of  this  gray  fall  day  an  interest  he  had  not  ex 
pected  to  feel  again  in  this  or  any  other  kind  of  day. 
It  was  sent  from  Carter's  well-known  drug  store, 
and  was  to  the  effect  that  a  lady  had  just  sent  a 
boy  in  from  the  street  to  say  that  a  strange  crime 

had  been  committed  in 's  mansion  round  the 

corner.  The  boy  did  not  know  the  lady,  and  was 
shy  about  showing  the  money  she  had  given  him, 
but  that  he  had  money  was  very  evident,  also, 
that  he  was  frightened  enough  for  his  story  to 
be  true.  If  the  police  wished  to  communicate 
with  him,  he  could  be  found  at  Carter's,  where  he 
would  be  detained  till  an  order  for  his  release 
should  be  received. 

A  strange  crime !  That  word  "  strange  "  struck 
Mr.  Gryce,  and  made  him  forget  his  years  in  won 
dering  what  it  meant.  Meanwhile  the  men  about 
him  exchanged  remarks  upon  the  house  brought 
thus  unexpectedly  to  their  notice.  As  it  was  one 
of  the  few  remaining  landmarks  of  the  preceding 
century,  and  had  been  made  conspicuous  moreover 

4 


Red  Light 

by  the  shops,  club-houses,  and  restaurants  pressing 
against  it  on  either  side,  it  had  been  a  marked 
spot  for  years  even  to  those  who  knew  nothing  of 
its  history  or  traditions. 

And  now  a  crime  had  taken  place  in  it !  Mr. 
Gryce,  in  whose  ears  that  word  "  strange  "  rang 
with  quiet  insistence,  had  but  to  catch  the  eye  of 
the  inspector  in  charge  to  receive  an  order  to  in 
vestigate  the  affair.  He  started  at  once,  and  pro 
ceeded  first  to  the  drug  store.  There  he  found  the 
boy,  whom  he  took  along  with  him  to  the  house 
indicated  in  the  message.  On  the  way  he  made 
him  talk,  but  there  was  nothing  the  poor  waif 
could  add  to  the  story  already  sent  over  the  tele 
phone.  He  persisted  in  saying  that  a  lady  (he 
did  not  say  woman)  had  come  up  to  him  while  he 
was  looking  at  some  toys  in  a  window,  and,  giving 
him  a  piece  of  money,  had  drawn  him  along  the 
street  as  far  as  the  drug  store.  Here  she  showed 
him  another  coin,  promising  to  add  it  to  the  one 
he  had  already  pocketed  if  he  would  run  in  to  the 
telephone  clerk  with  a  message  for  the  police. 
He  wanted  the  money,  and  when  he  grabbed  at  it 
she  said  that  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  tell  the  clerk 
that  a  strange  crime  had  been  committed  in  the 

old  house  on Street.      This  scared  him,  and 

5 


The  Circular  Study 

he  was  sliding  off,  when  she  caught  him  again  and 
shook  him  until  his  wits  came  back,  after  which 
he  ran  into  the  store  and  delivered  the  message. 

There  was  candor  in  the  boy's  tone,  and  Mr. 
Gryce  was  disposed  to  believe  him ;  but  when  he 
was  asked  to  describe  the  lady,  he  showed  that 
his  powers  of  observation  were  no  better  than 
those  of  most  of  his  class.  All  he  could  say  was 
that  she  was  a  stunner,  and  wore  shiny  clothes  and 
jewels,  and  Mr.  Gryce,  recognizing  the  lad's  limi 
tations  at  the  very  moment  he  found  himself  in 
view  of  the  house  he  was  making  for,  ceased  to 
question  him,  and  directed  all  his  attention  to 
the  building  he  was  approaching. 

Nothing  in  the  exterior  bespoke  crime  or  even 
disturbance.  A  shut  door,  a  clean  stoop,  heavily 
curtained  windows  (some  of  which  were  further 
shielded  by  closely  drawn  shades)  were  eloquent 
of  inner  quiet  and  domestic  respectability,  while 
its  calm  front  of  brick,  with  brownstone  trim 
mings,  offered  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  adjoining 
buildings  jutting  out  on  either  side,  alive  with 
signs  and  humming  with  business. 

"  Some  mistake,"  muttered  Gryce  to  himself,  as 
the  perfect  calm  reigning  over  the  whole  establish 
ment  struck  him  anew.  But  before  he  had  decided 

6 


Red  Light 

that  he  had  been  made  the  victim  of  a  hoax,  a  move 
ment  took  place  in  the  area  under  the  stoop,  and 
an  officer  stepped  out,  with  a  countenance  expres 
sive  of  sufficient  perplexity  for  Mr.  Gryce  to  mo 
tion  him  back  with  the  hurried  inquiry:  "Any 
thing  wrong  ?  Any  blood  shed  ?  All  seems  quiet 
here." 

The  officer,  recognizing  the  old  detective, 
touched  his  hat.  "Can't  get  in,"  said  he. 
"  Have  rung  all  the  bells.  Would  think  the  house 
empty  if  I  had  not  seen  something  like  a  stir  in 
one  of  the  windows  overhead.  Shall  I  try  to 
make  my  way  into  the  rear  yard  through  one  of 
the  lower  windows  of  Knapp  &  Co.'s  store,  next 
door?  " 

"Yes,  and  take  this  boy  with  you.  Lock  him 
up  in  some  one  of  their  offices,  and  then  break 
your  way  into  this  house  by  some  means.  It 
ought  to  be  easy  enough  from  the  back  yard." 

The  officer  nodded,  took  the  boy  by  the  arm, 
and  in  a  trice  had  disappeared  with  him  into  the 
adjoining  store.  Mr.  Gryce  remained  in  the  area, 
where  he  was  presently  besieged  by  a  crowd  of 
passers-by,  eager  to  add  their  curiosity  to  the 
trouble  they  had  so  quickly  scented.  The  open 
ing  of  the  door  from  the  inside  speedily  put  an 

7 


The  Circular  Study 

end  to  importunities  for  which  he  had  as  yet  no 
reply,  and  he  was  enabled  to  slip  within,  where  he 
found  himself  in  a  place  of  almost  absolute  quiet. 
Before  him  lay  a  basement  hall  leading  to  a 
kitchen,  which,  even  at  that  moment,  he  noticed 
to  be  in  trimmer  condition  than  is  usual  where 
much  housework  is  done,  but  he  saw  nothing  that 
bespoke  tragedy,  or  even  a  break  in  the  ordinary 
routine  of  life  as  observed  in  houses  of  like  size 
and  pretension. 

Satisfied  that  what  he  sought  was  not  to  be 
found  heret  he  followed  the  officer  upstairs.  As 
they  emerged  upon  the  parlor  floor,  the  latter 
dropped  the  following  information : 

"  Mr.  Raffner  of  the  firm  next  door  says  that 
the  man  who  lives  here  is  an  odd  sort  of  person 
whom  nobody  knows;  a  bookworm,  I  think  they 
call  him.  He  has  occupied  the  house  six  months, 
yet  they  have  never  seen  any  one  about  the  prem 
ises  but  himself  and  a  strange  old  servant  as  pecul 
iar  and  uncommunicative  as  his  master." 

"  I  know,"  muttered  Mr.  Gryce.  He  did  know, 
everybody  knew,  that  this  house,  once  the  seat  of 
one  of  New  York's  most  aristocratic  families,  was 
inhabited  at  present  by  a  Mr.  Adams,  noted  alike 

for  his  more  than  common  personal  attractions,  his 

8 


Red  Light 

wealth,  and  the  uncongenial  nature  of  his  tempera 
ment,  which  precluded  all  association  with  his  kind. 
It  was  this  knowledge  which  had  given  zest  to  this 
investigation.  To  enter  the  house  of  such  a  man 
was  an  event  in  itself :  to  enter  it  on  an  errand 
of  life  and  death —  Well,  it  is  under  the  inspira 
tion  of  such  opportunities  that  life  is  reawakened 
in  old  veins,  especially  when  those  veins  connect 
the  heart  and  brain  of  a  sagacious,  if  octogenarian, 
detective. 

The  hall  in  which  they  now  found  themselves 
was  wide,  old-fashioned,  and  sparsely  furnished  in 
the  ancient  manner  to  be  observed  in  such  time- 
honored  structures.  Two  doors  led  into  this  hall, 
both  of  which  now  stood  open.  Taking  advantage 
of  this  fact,  they  entered  the  nearest,  which  was 
nearly  opposite  the  top  of  the  staircase  they  had 
just  ascended,  and  found  themselves  in  a  room  bar 
ren  as  a  doctor's  outer  office.  There  was  nothing 
here  worth  their  attention,  and  they  would  have 
left  the  place  as  unceremoniously  as  they  had  en 
tered  it  if  they  had  not  caught  glimpses  of  rich 
ness  which  promised  an  interior  of  uncommon  ele 
gance,  behind  the  half -drawn  folds  of  a  portiere  at 
the  further  end  of  the  room. 

Advancing  through  the  doorway  thus  indicated, 
9 


The  Circular  Study 

they  took  one  look  about  them  and  stood  appalled. 
Nothing  in  their  experience  (and  they  had  both 
experienced  much)  had  prepared  them  for  the 
thrilling,  the  solemn  nature  of  what  they  were 
here  called  upon  to  contemplate. 

Shall  I  attempt  its  description  ? 

A  room  small  and  of  circular  shape,  hung  with 
strange  tapestries  relieved  here  and  there  by  price 
less  curios,  and  lit,  although  it  was  still  daylight, 
by  a  jet  of  rose-colored  light  concentrated,  not  on 
the  rows  and  rows  of  books  around  the  lower  por 
tion  of  the  room,  or  on  the  one  great  picture 
which  at  another  time  might  have  drawn  the  eye 
and  held  the  attention,  but  on  the  upturned  face 
of  a  man  lying  on  a  bearskin  rug  with  a  dagger  in 
his  heart  and  on  his  breast  a  cross  whose  golden 
lines,  sharply  outlined  against  his  long,  dark, 
swathing  garment,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a 
saint  prepared  in  some  holy  place  for  burial,  save 
that  the  dagger  spoke  of  violent  death,  and  his 
face  of  an  anguish  for  which  Mr.  Gryce,  notwith 
standing  his  lifelong  experience,  found  no  name, 
so  little  did  it  answer  to  a  sensation  of  fear,  pain, 
or  surprise,  or  any  of  the  emotions  usually  visible 
on  the  countenances  of  such  as  have  fallen  under 
the  unexpected  stroke  of  an  assassin. 


10 


CHAPTER    II. 

MYSTERIES. 

A  MOMENT  of  indecision,  of  awe  even,  elapsed 
before  Mr.  Gryce  recovered  himself.  The  dim 
light,  the  awesome  silence,  the  unexpected  sur 
roundings  recalling  a  romantic  age,  the  motionless 
figure  of  him  who  so  lately  had  been  the  master 
of -the  house,  lying  outstretched  as  for  the  tomb, 
with  the  sacred  symbol  on  his  breast  offering  such 
violent  contradiction  to  the  earthly  passion  which 
had  driven  the  dagger  home,  were  enough  to  move 
even  the  tried  spirit  of  this  old  officer  of  the  law 
and  confuse  a  mind  which,  in  the  years  of  his 
long  connection  with  the  force,  had  had  many  seri 
ous  problems  to  work  upon,  but  never  one  just  like 
this. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment,  though.  Before  the 
man  behind  him  had  given  utterance  to  his  own 
bewilderment  and  surprise,  Mr.  Gryce  had  passed 
in  and  taken  his  stand  by  the  prostrate  figure. 

That  it  was  that  of  a  man  who  had  long  since 
ii 


The  Circular  Study 

ceased  to  breathe  he  could  not  for  a  moment 
doubt;  yet  his  first  act  was  to  make  sure  of  the 
fact  by  laying  his  hand  on  the  pulse  and  examin 
ing  the  eyes,  whose  expression  of  reproach  was 
such  that  he  had  to  call  up  all  his  professional 
sangfroid  to  meet  them. 

He  found  the  body  still  warm,  but  dead  beyond 
all  question,  and,  once  convinced  of  this,  he  for 
bore  to  draw  the  dagger  from  the  wound,  though 
he  did  not  fail  to  give  it  the  most  careful  atten 
tion  before  turning  his  eyes  elsewhere.  It  was 
no  ordinary  weapon.  It  was  a  curio  from  some 
oriental  shop.  This  in  itself  seemed  to  point  to 
suicide,  but  the  direction  in  which  the  blade  had 
entered  the  body  and  the  position  of  the  wound 
were  not  such  as  would  be  looked  for  in  a  case  of 
self-murder. 

The  other  clews  were  few.  Though  the  scene 
had  been  one  of  bloodshed  and  death,  the  un 
doubted  result  of  a  sudden  and  fierce  attack,  there 
were  no  signs  of  struggle  to  be  found  in  the  well- 
ordered  apartment.  Beyond  a  few  rose  leaves 
scattered  on  the  floor,  the  room  was  a  scene  of 
peace  and  quiet  luxury.  Even  the  large  table 
which  occupied  the  centre  of  the  room  and  near 
which  the  master  of  the  house  had  been  standing 


12 


Mysteries 

when  struck  gave  no  token  of  the  tragedy  which 
had  been  enacted  at  its  side.  That  is,  not  at  first 
glance ;  for  though  its  large  top  was  covered  with 
articles  of  use  and  ornament,  they  all  stood  undis 
turbed  and  presumably  in  place,  as  if  the  shock 
which  had  laid  their  owner  low  had  failed  to  be 
communicated  to  his  belongings. 

The  contents  of  the  table  were  various.  Only 
a  man  of  complex  tastes  and  attainments  could 
have  collected  and  arranged  in  one  small  compass 
pipes,  pens,  portraits,  weights,  measures,  Roman 
lamps,  Venetian  glass,  rare  porcelains,  medals, 
rough  metal  work,  manuscript,  a  scroll  of  music,  a 
pot  of  growing  flowers,  and — and — (this  seemed 
oddest  of  all)  a  row  of  electric  buttons,  which  Mr. 
Gryce  no  sooner  touched  than  the  light  which  had 
been  burning  redly  in  the  cage  of  fretted  ironwork 
overhead  changed  in  a  twinkling  to  a  greenish 
glare,  filling  the  room  with  such  ghastly  tints  that 
Mr.  Gryce  sought  in  haste  another  button,  and, 
pressing  it,  was  glad  to  see  a  mild  white  radiance 
take  the  place  of  the  sickly  hue  which  had  added 
its  own  horror  to  the  already  solemn  terrors  of  the 
spot. 

"  Childish  tricks  for  a  man  of  his  age  and  posi 
tion,"  ruminated  Mr.  Gryce;  but  after  catching 


The  Circular  Study 

another  glimpse  of  the  face  lying  upturned  at  his 
feet  he  was  conscious  of  a  doubt  as  to  whether 
the  owner  of  that  countenance  could  have  pos 
sessed  an  instinct  which  was  in  any  wise  childish, 
so  strong  and  purposeful  were  his  sharply  cut 
features.  Indeed,  the  face  was  one  to  make  an 
impression  under  any  circumstances.  In  the 
present  instance,  and  with  such  an  expression 
stamped  upon  it,  it  exerted  a  fascination  which 
disturbed  the  current  of  the  detective's  thoughts 
whenever  by  any  chance  he  allowed  it  to  get  be 
tween  him  and  his  duty.  To  attribute  folly  to  a 
man  with  such  a  mouth  and  such  a  chin  was  to 
own  one's  self  a  poor  judge  of  human  nature. 
Therefore,  the  lamp  overhead,  with  its  electric 
connection  and  changing  slides,  had  a  meaning 
which  at  present  could  be  sought  for  only  in  the 
evidences  of  scientific  research  observable  in  the 
books  and  apparatus  everywhere  surrounding  him. 
Letting  the  white  light  burn  on,  Mr.  Gryce,  by 
a  characteristic  effort,  shifted  his  attention  to  the 
walls,  covered,  as  I  have  said,  with  tapestries  and 
curios.  There  was  nothing  on  them  calculated  to 
aid  him  in  his  research  into  the  secret  of  this 
crime,  unless— yes,  there  was  something,  a  bent- 
down  nail,  wrenched  from  its  place,  the  nail  on 

14 


Mysteries 

which  the  cross  had  hung  which  now  lay  upon  the 
dead  man's  heart.  The  cord  by  which  it  had  been 
suspended  still  clung  to  the  cross  and  mingled  its 
red  threads  with  that  other  scarlet  thread  which 
had  gone  to  meet  it  from  the  victim's  wounded 
breast.  Who  had  torn  down  that  cross  ?  Not  the 
victim  himself.  With  such  a  wound,  any  such 
movement  would  have  been  impossible.  Besides, 
the  nail  and  the  empty  place  on  the  wall  were  as 
far  removed  from  where  he  lay  as  was  possible  in 
the  somewhat  circumscribed  area  of  this  circular 
apartment.  Another's  hand,  then,  had  pulled 
down  this  symbol  of  peace  and  pardon,  and  placed 
it  where  the  dying  man's  fleeting  breath  would 
play  across  it,  a  peculiar  exhibition  of  religious 
hope  or  mad  remorse,  to  the  significance  of  which 
Mr.  Gryce  could  not  devote  more  than  a  passing 
thought,  so  golden  were  the  moments  in  which  he 
found  himself  alone  upon  this  scene  of  crime. 

Behind  the  table  and  half-way  up  the  wall  was  a 
picture,  the  only  large  picture  in  the  room.  It 
was  the  portrait  of  a  young  girl  of  an  extremely 
interesting  and  pathetic  beauty.  From  her  garb 
and  the  arrangement  of  her  hair,  it  had  evidently 
been  painted  about  the  end  of  our  civil  war.  In 
it  was  to  be  observed  the  same  haunting  quality 


The  Circular  Study 

of  intellectual  charm  visible  in  the  man  lying 
prone  upon  the  floor,  and  though  she  was  fair  and 
he  dark,  there  was  sufficient  likeness  between  the 
two  to  argue  some  sort  of  relationship  between 
them.  Below  this  picture  were  fastened  a  sword, 
a  pair  of  epaulettes,  and  a  medal  such  as  was 
awarded  for  valor  in  the  civil  war. 

"Mementoes  which  may  help  us  in  our  task," 
mused  the  detective. 

Passing  on,  he  came  unexpectedly  upon  a  narrow 
curtain,  so  dark  of  hue  and  so  akin  in  pattern  to 
the  draperies  on  the  adjoining  walls  that  it  had  up 
to  this  time  escaped  his  attention.  It  was  not  that 
of  a  window,  for  such  windows  as  were  to  be  seen 
in  this  unique  apartment  were  high  upon  the  wall, 
indeed,  almost  under  the  ceiling.  It  must,  there 
fore,  drape  the  opening  into  still  another  com 
municating  room.  And  such  he  found  to  be  the 
case.  Pushing  this  curtain  aside,  he  entered  a 
narrow  closet  containing  a  bed,  a  dresser,  and  a 
small  table.  The  bed  was  the  narrow  cot  of  a 
bachelor,  and  the  dresser  that  of  a  man  of  luxu 
rious  tastes  and  the  utmost  nicety  of  habit.  Both 
the  bed  and  dresser  were  in  perfect  order,  save  for 
a  silver-backed  comb,  which  had  been  taken  from 

the  latter,  and  which  he  presently  found  lying  on 

16 


Mysteries 

the  floor  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  This  and 
the  presence  of  a  pearl- handled  parasol  on  a  small 
stand  near  the  door  proclaimed  that  a  woman  had 
been  there  within  a  short  space  of  time.  The 
identity  of  this  woman  was  soon  established  in  his 
eyes  by  a  small  but  unmistakable  token  connect 
ing  her  with  the  one  who  had  been  the  means  of 
sending  in  the  alarm  to  the  police.  The  token 
of  which  I  speak  was  a  little  black  spangle,  called 
by  milliners  and  mantua-makers  a  sequin,  which 
lay  on  the  threshold  separating  this  room  from  the 
study;  and  as  Mr.  Gryce,  attracted  by  its  sparkle, 
stooped  to  examine  it,  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a 
similar  one  on  the  floor  beyond,  and  of  still  an 
other  a  few  steps  farther  on.  The  last  one  lay 
close  to  the  large  centre-table  before  which  he  had 
just  been  standing. 

The  dainty  trail  formed  by  these  bright  spark 
ling  drops  seemed  to  affect  him  oddly.  He  knew, 
minute  observer  that  he  was,  that  in  the  manufac 
ture  of  this  garniture  the  spangles  are  strung  on 
a  thread  which,  if  once  broken,  allows  them  to 
drop  away  one  by  one,  till  you  can  almost  follow 
a  woman  so  arrayed  by  the  sequins  that  fall  from 
her.  Perhaps  it  was  the  delicate  nature  of  the 
clew  thus  offered  that  pleased  him,  perhaps  it 

17 


The   Circular  Study 

was  a  recognition  of  the  irony  of  fate  in  thus  mak 
ing  a  trap  for  unwary  mortals  out  of  their  vanities. 
Whatever  it  was,  the  smile  with  which  he  turned 
his  eye  upon  the  table  toward  which  he  had  thus 
been  led  was  very  eloquent.  But  before  examin 
ing  this  article  of  furniture  more  closely,  he  at 
tempted  to  find  out  where  the  thread  had  become 
loosened  which  had  let  the  spangles  fall.  Had  it 
caught  on  any  projection  in  doorway  or  furniture? 
He  saw  none.  All  the  chairs  were  cushioned  and 
— But  wait !  there  was  the  cross !  That  had  a 
fretwork  of  gold  at  its  base.  Might  not  this 
filagree  have  caught  in  her  dress  as  she  was  tear 
ing  down  the  cross  from  the  wall  and  so  have 
started  the  thread  which  had  given  him  this  ex 
quisite  clew? 

Hastening  to  the  spot  where  the  cross  had 
hung,  he  searched  the  floor  at  his  feet,  but  found 
nothing  to  confirm  his  conjecture  until  he  had 
reached  the  rug  on  which  the  prostrate  man  lay. 
There,  amid  the  long  hairs  of  the  bearskin,  he  came 
upon  one  other  spangle,  and  knew  that  the  woman 
in  the  shiny  clothes  had  stooped  there  before  him. 

Satisfied  on  this  point,  he  returned  to  the  table, 
and  this  time  subjected  it  to  a  thorough  and  mi 
nute  examination.  That  the  result  was  not  entirely 

18 


Mysteries 

unsatisfactory  was  evident  from  the  smile  with 
which  he  eyed  his  finger  after  having  drawn  it 
across  a  certain  spot  near  the  inkstand,  and  also 
from  the  care  with  which  he  lifted  that  inkstand 
and  replaced  it  in  precisely  the  same  spot  from 
which  he  had  taken  it  up.  Had  he  expected  to  find 
something  concealed  under  it?  Who  can  tell? 
A  detective's  face  seldom  yields  up  its  secrets. 

He  was  musing  quite  intently  before  this  table 
when  a  quick  step  behind  him  made  him  turn. 
Styles,  the  officer,  having  now  been  over  the  house, 
had  returned,  and  was  standing  before  him  in  the 
attitude  of  one  who  has  something  to  say. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Gryce,  with  a  quick 
movement  in  his  direction. 

For  answer  the  officer  pointed  to  the  staircase 
visible  through  the  antechamber  door. 

"Go  up!"  was  indicated  by  his  gesture. 

Mr.  Gryce  demurred,  casting  a  glance  around 
the  room,  which  at  that  moment  interested  him  so 
deeply.  At  this  the  man  showed  some  excite 
ment,  and,  breaking  silence,  said : 

"  Come !  I  have  lighted  on  the  guilty  party. 
He  is  in  a  room  upstairs. " 

"  He  ?  "  Mr.  Gryce  was  evidently  surprised  at 

the  pronoun. 

2  19 


The   Circular  Study 

"  Yes ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  it.  When 
you  see  him — but  what  is  that?  Is  he  coming 
down?  I'm  sure  there's  nobody  else  in  the  house. 
Don't  you  hear  footsteps,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Gryce  nodded.  Some  one  was  certainly 
descending  the  stairs. 

"  Let  us  retreat,"  suggested  Styles.  "  Not  be 
cause  the  man  is  dangerous,  but  because  it  is  very 
necessary  you  should  see  him  before  he  sees  you. 
He's  a  very  strange-acting  man,  sir;  and  if  he 
comes  in  here,  will  be  sure  to  do  something  to  in 
criminate  himself.  Where  can  we  hide  ?  " 

Mr.  Gryce  remembered  the  little  room  he  had 
just  left,  and  drew  the  officer  toward  it.  Once 
installed  inside,  he  let  the  curtain  drop  till  only  a 
small  loophole  remained.  The  steps,  which  had 
been  gradually  growing  louder,  kept  advancing; 
and  presently  they  could  hear  the  intruder's 
breathing,  which  was  both  quick  and  labored. 

"  Does  he  know  that  any  one  has  entered  the 
house  ?  Did  he  see  you  when  you  came  upon  him 
upstairs?"  whispered  Mr.  Gryce  into  the  ear  of 
the  man  beside  him. 

Styles  shook  his  head,  and  pointed  eagerly  tow 
ard  the  opposite  door.  The  man  for  whose  ap 
pearance  they  waited  had  just  lifted  the  portiere 


20 


Mysteries 

and  in  another  moment  stood  in  full  view  just  in 
side  the  threshold. 

Mr.  Gryce  and  his  attendant  colleague  both 
stared.  Was  this  the  murderer  ?  This  pale,  lean 
servitor,  with  a  tray  in  his  hand  on  which  rested 
a  single  glass  of  water  ? 

Mr.  Gryce  was  so  astonished  that  he  looked  at 
Styles  for  explanation.  But  that  officer,  hiding 
his  own  surprise,  for  he  had  not  expected  this 
peaceful  figure,  urged  him  in  a  whisper  to  have 
patience,  and  both,  turning  toward  the  man  again, 
beheld  him  advance,  stop,  cast  one  look  at  the  figure 
lying  on  the  floor  and  then  let  slip  the  glass  with 
a  low  cry  that  at  once  changed  to  something  like 
a  howl. 

"  Look  at  him !  Look  at  him !  "  urged  Styles, 
in  a  hurried  whisper.  "  Watch  what  he  will  do 
now.  You  will  see  a  murderer  at  work." 

And  sure  enough,  in  another  instant  this  strange 
being,  losing  all  semblance  to  his  former  self,  en 
tered  upon  a  series  of  pantomimic  actions  which 
to  the  two  men  who  watched  him  seemed  both  to 
explain  and  illustrate  the  crime  which  had  just 
been  enacted  there. 

With  every  appearance  of  passion,  he  stood  con 
templating  the  empty  air  before  him,  and  then, 

21 


The  Circular  Study 

with  one  hand  held  stretched  out  behind  him  in  a 
peculiarly  cramped  position,  he  plunged  with  the 
other  toward  a  table  from  which  he  made  a  feint 
of  snatching  something  which  he  no  sooner  closed 
his  hand  upon  than  he  gave  a  quick  side-thrust, 
still  at  the  empty  air,  which  seemed  to  quiver  in 
return,  so  vigorous  was  his  action  and  so  evident 
his  intent. 

The  reaction  following  this  thrust;  the  slow 
unclosing  of  his  hand  from  an  imaginary  dagger; 
the  tottering  of  his  body  backward;  then  the 
moment  when  with  wide  open  eyes  he  seemed  to 
contemplate  in  horror  the  result  of  his  own  deed; 
— these  needed  no  explanation  beyond  what  was 
given  by  his  writhing  features  and  trembling  body. 
Gradually  succumbing  to  the  remorse  or  terror  of 
his  own  crime,  he  sank  lower  and  lower,  until, 
though  with  that  one  arm  still  stretched  out,  he 
lay  in  an  inert  heap  on  the  floor. 

"  It  is  what  I  saw  him  do  upstairs,"  murmured 
Styles  into  the  ear  of  the  amazed  detective.  "  He 
has  evidently  been  driven  insane  by  his  own  act." 

Mr.  Gryce  made  no  answer.  Here  was  a  prob 
lem  for  the  solution  of  which  he  found  no  prece 
dent  in  all  his  past  experience. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    MUTE    SERVITOR. 

MEANWHILE  the  man  who,  to  all  appearance,  had 
just  re-enacted  before  them  the  tragedy  which  had 
so  lately  taken  place  in  this  room,  rose  to  his  feet, 
and,  with  a  dazed  air  as  unlike  his  former  violent 
expression  as  possible,  stooped  for  the  glass  he 
had  let  fall,  and  was  carrying  it  out  when  Mr. 
Gryce  called  to  him  : 

"  Wait,  man  !  You  needn't  take  that  glass  away. 
We  first  want  to  hear  how  your  master  comes  to  be 
lying  here  dead." 

It  was  a  demand  calculated  to  startle  any  man. 
But  this  one  showed  himself  totally  unmoved  by 
it,  and  was  passing  on  when  Styles  laid  a  detain 
ing  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Stop!"  said  he.  "What  do  you  mean  by 
sliding  off  like  this  ?  Don't  you  hear  the  gentle 
man  speaking  to  you  ?  " 

This  time  the  appeal  told.  The  glass  fell  again 
from  the  man's  hand,  mingling  its  clink  (for  it 
struck  the  floor  this  time  and  broke)  with  the  cry 
he  gave — which  was  not  exactly  a  cry  either,  but 

23 


The   Circular  Study 

an  odd  sound  between  a  moan  and  a  shriek.  He 
had  caught  sight  of  the  men  who  were  seeking  to 
detain  him,  and  his  haggard  look  and  cringing  form 
showed  that  he  realized  at  last  the  terrors  of  his 
position.  Next  minute  he  sought  to  escape,  but 
Styles,  gripping  him  more  firmly,  dragged  him 
back  to  where  Mr.  Gryce  stood  beside  the  bearskin 
rug  on  which  lay  the  form  of  his  dead  master. 

Instantly,  at  the  sight  of  this  recumbent  figure, 
another  change  took  place  in  the  entrapped  butler. 
Joy — that  most  hellish  of  passions  in  the  presence 
of  violence  and  death — illumined  his  wandering 
eye  and  distorted  his  mouth;  and,  seeking  no  dis 
guise  for  the  satisfaction  he  felt,  he  uttered  a  low 
but  thrilling  laugh,  which  rang  in  unholy  echo 
through  the  room. 

Mr.  Gryce,  moved  in  spite  of  himself  by  an  ab 
horrence  which  the  irresponsible  condition  of  this 
man  seemed  only  to  emphasize,  waited  till  the  last 
faint  sounds  of  this  diabolical  mirth  had  died  away 
in  the  high  recesses  of  the  space  above.  Then,  fix 
ing  the  glittering  eye  of  this  strange  creature  with 
his  own,  which,  as  we  know,  so  seldom  dwelt  upon 
that  of  his  fellow-beings,  he  sternly  said : 

"There  now!     Speak!     Who  killed  this  man? 

You  were  in  the  house  with  him,  and  should  know." 

24 


The  Mute  Servitor 

The  butler's  lips  opened  and  a  string  of  strange 
gutturals  poured  forth,  while  with  his  one  disen 
gaged  hand  (for  the  other  was  held  to  his  side  by 
Styles)  he  touched  his  ears  and  his  lips,  and  vio 
lently  shook  his  head. 

There  was  but  one  interpretation  to  be  given  to 
this.  The  man  was  deaf  and  dumb. 

The  shock  of  this  discovery  was  too  much  for 
Styles.  His  hand  fell  from  the  other's  arms,  and 
the  man,  finding  himself  free,  withdrew  to  his 
former  place  in  the  room,  where  he  proceeded  to 
enact  again  and  with  increased  vivacity  first  the 
killing  of  and  then  the  mourning  for  his  master, 
which  but  a  few  moments  before  had  made  so 
suggestive  an  impression  upon  them.  This  done, 
he  stood  waiting,  but  this  time  with  that  gleam  of 
infernal  joy  in  the  depths  of  his  quick,  restless 
eyes  which  made  his  very  presence  in  this  room 
of  death  seem  a  sacrilege  and  horror. 

Styles  could  not  stand  it.  "  Can't  you  speak?  " 
he  shouted.  "  Can't  you  hear?  " 

The  man  only  smiled,  an  evil  and  gloating  smile, 
which  Mr.  Gryce  thought  it  his  duty  to  cut  short. 

"  Take  him  away  !  "  he  cried.  "  Examine  him 
carefully  for  blood  marks.  I  am  going  up  to  the 
room  where  you  saw  him  first.  He  is  too  nearly 

25 


The  Circular  Study 

linked  to  this  crime  not  to  carry  some  trace  of  it 
away  with  him." 

But  for  once  even  this  time-tried  detective  found 
himself  at  fault.  No  marks  were  found  on  the  old 
servant,  nor  could  they  discover  in  the  rooms  above 
any  signs  by  which  this  one  remaining  occupant  of 
the  house  could  be  directly  associated  with  the 
crime  which  had  taken  place  within  it.  There 
upon  Mr.  Gryce  grew  very  thoughtful  and  entered 
upon  another  examination  of  the  two  rooms  which 
to  his  mind  held  all  the  clews  that  would  ever  be 
given  to  this  strange  crime. 

The  result  was  meagre,  and  he  was  just  losing 
himself  again  in  contemplation  of  the  upturned 
face,  whose  fixed  mouth  and  haunting  expression 
told  such  a  story  of  suffering  and  determination, 
when  there  came  from  the  dim  recesses  above  his 
head  a  cry,  which,  forming  itself  into  two  words, 
rang  down  with  startling  clearness  in  this  most 
unexpected  of  appeals : 

"  Remember  Evelyn !  " 

Remember  Evelyn !  Who  was  Evelyn  ?  And 
to  whom  did  this  voice  belong,  in  a  house  which 
had  already  been  ransacked  in  vain  for  other  occu 
pants?  It  seemed  to  come  from  the  roof,  and, 

sure  enough,  when  Mr.  Gryce  looked  up  he  saw, 

26 


The  Mute  Servitor 

swinging  in  a  cage  strung  up  nearly  to  the  top  of 
one  of  the  windows  I  have  mentioned,  an  English 
starling,  which,  in  seeming  recognition  of  the  at 
tention  it  had  drawn  upon  itself,  craned  its  neck 
as  Mr.  Gryce  looked  up,  and  shrieked  again,  with 
fiercer  insistence  than  before : 

"  Remember  Evelyn !  " 

It  was  the  last  uncanny  touch  in  a  series  of  un 
canny  experiences.  With  an  odd  sense  of  night 
mare  upon  him,  Mr.  Gryce  leaned  forward  on  the 
study  table  in  his  effort  to  obtain  a  better  view  of 
this  bird,  when,  without  warning,  the  white  light, 
which  since  his  last  contact  with  the  electrical  ap 
paratus  had  spread  itself  through  the  room,  changed 
again  to  green,  and  he  realized  that  he  had  unin 
tentionally  pressed  a  button  and  thus  brought  into 
action  another  slide  in  the  curious  lamp  over  his 
head. 

Annoyed,  for  these  changing  hues  offered  a 
problem  he  was  as  yet  too  absorbed  in  other  mat 
ters  to  make  any  attempt  to  solve,  he  left  the 
vicinity  of  the  table,  and  was  about  to  leave  the 
room  when  he  heard  Styles's  voice  rise  from  the 
adjoining  antechamber,  where  Styles  was  keeping 
guard  over  the  old  butler : 

"Shall  I  let  him  go,  Mr.    Gryce?     He  seems 

27 


The   Circular  Study 

very  uneasy;  not  dangerous,  you  know,  but  anx 
ious  ;  as  if  he  had  forgotten  something  or  recalled 
some  unfulfilled  duty. " 

"Yes,  let  him  go,"  was  the  detective's  quick 
reply.  "  Only  watch  and  follow  him.  Every 
movement  he  makes  is  of  interest  Unconscious 
ly  he  may  be  giving  us  invaluable  clews. "  And 
he  approached  the  door  to  note  for  himself  what 
the  man  might  do. 

"  Remember  Evelyn ! "  rang  out  the  startling 
cry  from  above,  as  the  detective  passed  between 
the  curtains.  Irresistibly  he  looked  back  and  up. 
To  whom  was  this  appeal  from  a  bird's  throat  so 
imperatively  addressed  ?  To  him  or  to  the  man 
on  the  floor  beneath,  whose  ears  were  forever 
closed  ?  It  might  be  a  matter  of  little  consequence, 
and  it  might  be  one  involving  the  very  secret  of 
this  tragedy.  But  whether  important  or  not,  he 
could  pay  no  heed  to  it  at  this  juncture,  for  the 
old  butler,  coming  from  the  front  hall  whither  he 
had  hurried  on  being  released  by  Styles,  was  at 
that  moment  approaching  him,  carrying  in  one 
hand  his  master's  hat  and  in  the  other  his  mas 
ter's  umbrella. 

Not  knowing  what  this  new  movement  might 

mean,  Mr.  Gryce  paused  where  he  was  and  waited 

28 


The  Mute  Servitor 

for  the  man  to  advance.  Seeing  this,  the  mute, 
to  whose  face  and  bearing  had  returned  the  re 
spectful  immobility  of  the  trained  servant,  handed 
over  the  articles  he  had  brought,  and  then  noise 
lessly,  and  with  the  air  of  one  who  had  performed 
an  expected  service,  retreated  to  his  old  place  in  the 
antechamber,  where  he  sat  down  again  and  fell 
almost  immediately  into  his  former  dazed  condi 
tion. 

"  Humph !  mind  quite  lost,  memory  uncertain, 
testimony  valueless,"  were  the  dissatisfied  reflec 
tions  of  the  disappointed  detective  as  he  replaced 
Mr.  Adams's  hat  and  umbrella  on  the  hall  rack. 
"  Has  he  been  brought  to  this  state  by  the  tragedy 
which  has  just  taken  place  here,  or  is  his  present 
insane  condition  its  precursor  and  cause?"  Mr. 
Gryce  might  have  found  some  answer  to  this  ques 
tion  in  his  own  mind  if,  at  that  moment,  the  fitful 
clanging  of  the  front  door  bell,  which  had  hitherto 
testified  to  the  impatience  of  the  curious  crowd 
outside,  had  not  been  broken  into  by  an  authorita 
tive  knock  which  at  once  put  an  end  to  all  self- 
communing. 

The  coroner,  or  some  equally  important  person, 
was  at  hand,  and  the  detective's  golden  hour  was 

over. 

29 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A   NEW    EXPERIENCE    FOR    MR.    GRYCE. 

MR.  GRYCE  felt  himself  at  a  greater  disadvan 
tage  in  his  attempt  to  solve  the  mystery  of  this 
affair  than  in  any  other  which  he  had  entered  upon 
in  years.  First,  the  victim  had  been  a  solitary 
man,  with  no  household  save  his  man-of -all-work, 
the  mute.  Secondly,  he  had  lived  in  a  portion  of 
the  city  where  no  neighbors  were  possible ;  and 
he  had  even  lacked,  as  it  now  seemed,  any  very 
active  friends.  Though  some  hours  had  elapsed 
since  his  death  had  been  noised  abroad,  no  one 
had  appeared  at  the  door  with  inquiries  or  informa 
tion.  This  seemed  odd,  considering  that  he  had 
been  for  some  months  a  marked  figure  in  this 
quarter  of  the  town.  But,  then,  everything  about 
this  man  was  odd,  nor  would  it  have  been  in 
keeping  with  his  surroundings  and  peculiar  man 
ner  of  living  for  him  to  have  had  the  ordinary  as 
sociations  of  men  of  his  class. 

This  absence  of  the  usual   means  of  eliciting 


A  New  Experience  for  Mr.   Gryce 

knowledge  from  the  surrounding  people,  added  to, 
rather  than  detracted  from,  the  interest  which  Mr. 
Gryce  was  bound  to  feel  in  the  case,  and  it  was 
with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  a  little  before  mid 
night  he  saw  the  army  of  reporters,  medical  men, 
officials,  and  such  others  as  had  followed  in  the 
coroner's  wake,  file  out  of  the  front  door  and  leave 
him  again,  for  a  few  hours  at  least,  master  of  the 
situation. 

For  there  were  yet  two  points  which  he  desired 
to  settle  before  he  took  his  own  much-needed  rest. 
The  first  occupied  his  immediate  attention.  Pass 
ing  before  a  chair  in  the  hall  on  which  a  small  boy 
sat  dozing,  he  roused  him  with  the  remark : 

"  Come,  Jake,  it's  time  to  look  lively.  I  want 
you  to  go  with  me  to  the  exact  place  where  that 
lady  ran  across  you  to-day." 

The  boy,  half  dead  with  sleep,  looked  around 
him  for  his  hat. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  my  mother  first,"  he  pleaded. 
"  She  must  be  done  up  about  me.  I  never  stayed 
away  so  long  before. " 

"  Your  mother  knows  where  you  are.  I  sent  a 
message  to  her  hours  ago.  She  gave  a  very  good 
report  of  you,  Jake;  says  you're  an  obedient  lad 
and  that  you  never  have  told  her  a  falsehood." 


The   Circular  Study 

"She's  a  good  mother,"  the  boy  warmly  de 
clared.  "  I'd  be  as  bad — as  bad  as  my  father  was, 
if  I  did  not  treat  her  well. "  Here  his  hand  fell 
on  his  cap,  which  he  put  on  his  head. 

"I'm  ready,"  said  he. 

Mr.  Gryce  at  once  led  the  way  into  the  street. 

The  hour  was  late,  and  only  certain  portions  of 
the  city  showed  any  real  activity.  Into  one  of 
these  thoroughfares  they  presently  came,  and  be 
fore  the  darkened  window  of  one  of  the  lesser 
shops  paused,  while  Jake  pointed  out  the  two 
stuffed  frogs  engaged  with  miniature  swords  in 
mortal  combat  at  which  he  had  been  looking 
when  the  lady  came  up  and  spoke  to  him. 

Mr.  Gryce  eyed  the  boy  rather  than  the  frogs, 
though  probably  the  former  would  have  sworn  that 
his  attention  had  never  left  that  miniature  conflict. 

"Was  she  a  pretty  lady?  "  he  asked. 

The  boy  scratched  his  head  in  some  perplex 
ity. 

"She  made  me  a  good  deal  afraid  of  her,"  he 
said.  "  She  had  very  splendid  clothes ;  oh,  gor 
geous  ! "  he  cried,  as  if  on  this  question  there 
could  be  no  doubt. 

"  And  she  was  young,  and  carried  a  bunch  of 
flowers,  and  seemed  troubled  ?  What !  not  young, 


A  New  Experience  for  Mr.   Gryce 

and  carried  no  flowers — and  wasn't  even  anxious 
and  trembling  ?  " 

The  boy,  who  had  been  shaking  his  head,  looked 
nonplussed. 

"  I  think  as  she  was  what  you  might  call 
troubled.  But  she  wasn't  crying,  and  when  she 
spoke  to  me,  she  put  more  feeling  into  her  grip 
than  into  her  voice.  She  just  dragged  me  to  the 
drug-store,  sir.  If  she  hadn't  given  me  money 
first,  I  should  have  wriggled  away  in  spite  of  her. 
But  I  likes  money,  sir ;  I  don't  get  too  much  of  it." 

Mr.  Gryce  by  this  time  was  moving  on.  "  Not 
young,"  he  repeated  to  himself.  "  Some  old 
flame,  then,  of  Mr.  Adams;  they're  apt  to  be  dan 
gerous,  very  dangerous,  more  dangerous  than  the 
young  ones."* 

In  front  of  the  drug-store  he  paused.  "  Show  me 
where  she  stood  while  you  went  in." 

The  boy  pointed  out  the  identical  spot.  He 
seemed  as  eager  as  the  detective. 

"  And  was  she  standing  there  when  you  came 
out?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir ;  she  went  away  while  I  was  in 
side." 

"  Did  you  see  her  go  ?     Can  you  tell  me  whether 
she  went  up  street  or  down  ?  " 
3  33 


The   Circular  Study 


"  I  had  one  eye  on  her,  sir  ;  I  was  afraid  she 
was  coming  into  the  shop  after  me,  and  my  arm 
was  too  sore  for  me  to  want  her  to  clinch  hold  on 
it  again.  So  when  she  started  to  go,  I  took  a 
step  nearer,  and  saw  her  move  toward  the  curb 
stone  and  hold  up  her  hand.  But  it  wasn't  a  car 
she  was  after,  for  none  came  by  for  several  min 
utes." 

The  fold  between  Mr.  Gryce's  eyes  perceptibly 
smoothed  out. 

"  Then  it  was  some  cabman  or  hack-driver  she 
hailed.  Were  there  any  empty  coaches  about  that 
you  saw  ?  " 

The  boy  had  not  noticed.  He  had  reached  the 
limit  of  his  observations,  and  no  amount  of  further 
questioning  could  elicit  anything  more  from  him. 
This  Mr.  Gryce  soon  saw,  and  giving  him  into  the 
charge  of  one  of  his  assistants  who  was  on  duty  at 
this  place,  he  proceeded  back  to  the  ill-omened 
house  where  the  tragedy  itself  had  occurred. 

"  Any  one  waiting  for  me  ?  "  he  inquired  of 
Styles,  who  came  to  the  door. 

"Yes,  sir;  a  young  man;  name,  Hines.  Says 
he's  an  electrician." 

"  That's  the  man  I  want.     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  In  the  parlor,  sir.  " 

34 


A  New  Experience  for  Mr.   Gryce 

"Good!  I'll  see  him.  But  don't  let  any  one 
else  in.  Anybody  upstairs?  " 

"  No,  sir,  all  gone.  Shall  I  go  up  or  stay 
here?" 

"  You'd  better  go  up.     I'll  look  after  the  door." 

Styles  nodded,  and  went  toward  the  stairs,  up 
which  he  presently  disappeared.  Mr.  Gryce  pro 
ceeded  to  the  parlor. 

A  dapper  young  man  with  an  intelligent  eye  rose 
to  meet  him.  "  You  sent  for  me,"  said  he. 

The  detective  nodded,  asked  a  few  questions, 
and  seeming  satisfied  with  the  replies  he  received, 
led  the  way  into  Mr.  Adams's  study,  from  which 
the  body  had  been  removed  to  an  upper  room. 
As  they  entered,  a  mild  light  greeted  them  from 
a  candle  which,  by  Mr.  Gryce 's  orders,  had  been 
placed  on  a  small  side  table  near  the  door.  But 
once  in,  Mr.  Gryce  approached  the  larger  table  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  placing  his  hand  on 
one  of  the  buttons  before  him,  asked  his  compan 
ion  to  be  kind  enough  to  blow  out  the  candle. 
This  he  did,  leaving  the  room  for  a  moment  in 
total  darkness.  Then  with  a  sudden  burst  of  illu 
mination,  a  marvellous  glow  of  a  deep  violet  color 
shot  over  the  whole  room,  and  the  two  men  turned 
and  faced  each  other  both  with  inquiry  in  their 
3  35 


The  Circular  Study 

looks,  so  unexpected  was  this  theatrical  effect  to 
the  one,  and  so  inexplicable  its  cause  and  purpose 
to  the  other. 

"That  is  but  one  slide,"  remarked  Mr.  Gryce. 
"  Now  I  will  press  another  button,  and  the  color 
changes  to — pink,  as  you  see.  This  one  produces 
green,  this  one  white,  and  this  a  bilious  yellow, 
which  is  not  becoming  to  either  of  us,  I  am  sure. 
Now  will  you  examine  the  connection,  and  see  if 
there  is  anything  peculiar  about  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Hines  at  once  set  to  work.  But  beyond 
the  fact  that  the  whole  contrivance  was  the  work 
of  an  amateur  hand,  he  found  nothing  strange 
about  it,  except  the  fact  that  it  worked  so  well. 

Mr.  Gryce  showed  disappointment. 

"He  made  it,  then,  himself?  "  he  asked. 

"  Undoubtedly,  or  some  one  else  equally  unac 
quainted  with  the  latest  method  of  wiring." 

"  Will  you  look  at  these  books  over  here  and  see 
if  sufficient  knowledge  can  be  got  from  them  to 
enable  an  amateur  to  rig  up  such  an  arrangement 
as  this?" 

Mr.  Hines  glanced  at  the  shelf  which  Mr.  Gryce 
had  pointed  out,  and  without  taking  out  the  books, 
answered  briefly : 

"  A  man  with  a  deft  hand  and  a  scientific  turn 
36 


A   New  Experience  for  Mr.   Grycc 

of  mind  might,  by  the  aid  of  these,  do  all  you  see 
here  and  more.  The  aptitude  i.s  all." 

"Then  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Adams  had  the  aptitude," 
was  the  dry  response.  There  was  disappointment 
in  the  tone.  Why,  his  next  words  served  to  show. 
"  A  man  with  a  turn  for  mechanical  contrivances 
often  wastes  much  time  and  money  on  useless  toys 
only  fit  for  children  to  play  with.  Look  at  that 
bird  cage  now.  Perched  at  a  height  totally  be 
yond  the  reach  of  any  one  without  a  ladder,  it 
must  owe  its  very  evident  usefulness  (for  you  see  it 
holds  a  rather  lively  occupant)  to  some  contrivance 
by  which  it  can  be  raised  and  lowered  at  will. 
Where  is  that  contrivance?  Can  you  find  it?  " 

The  expert  thought  he  could.  And,  sure 
enough,  after  some  ineffectual  searching,  he  came 
upon  another  button  well  hid  amid  the  tapestry 
on  the  wall,  which,  when  pressed,  caused  some 
thing  to  be  disengaged  which  gradually  lowered 
the  cage  within  reach  of  Mr.  Gryce's  hand. 

"  We  will  not  send  this  poor  bird  aloft  again," 
said  he,  detaching  the  cage  and  holding  it  for  a 
moment  in  his  hand.  "  An  English  starling  is 
none  too  common  in  this  country.  Hark !  he  is 
going  to  speak. " 

But  the  sharp-eyed  bird,  warned  perhaps  by 
37 


The   Circular  Study 

the  emphatic  gesture  of  the  detective  that  silence 
would  be  more  in  order  at  this  moment  than  his 
usual  appeal  to  "  remember  Evelyn,"  whisked  about 
in  his  cage  for  an  instant,  and  then  subsided  into 
a  doze,  which  may  have  been  real,  and  may  have 
been  assumed  under  the  fascinating  eye  of  the  old 
gentleman  who  held  him.  Mr.  Gryce  placed  the 
cage  on  the  floor,  and  idly,  or  because  the  play 
pleased  him,  old  and  staid  as  he  was,  pressed  an 
other  button  on  the  table — a  button  he  had  hither 
to  neglected  touching — and  glanced  around  to  see 
what  color  the  light  would  now  assume. 

But  the  yellow  glare  remained.  The  investiga 
tion  which  the  apparatus  had  gone  through  had 
probably  disarranged  the  wires.  With  a  shrug  he 
was  moving  off,  when  he  suddenly  made  a  hurried 
gesture,  directing  the  attention  of  the  expert  to 
a  fact  for  which  neither  of  them  was  prepared. 
The  opening  which  led  into  the  antechamber,  and 
which  was  the  sole  means  of  communication  with 
the  rest  of  the  house,  was  slowly  closing.  From 
a  yard's  breadth  it  became  a  foot ;  from  a  foot  it 
became  an  inch ;  from  an  inch — 

"  Well,  that  is  certainly  the  contrivance  of  a  lazy 
man,"  laughed  the  expert.  "  Seated  in  his  chair 
here,  he  can  close  his  door  at  will.  No  shouting 

38 


A  New  Experience  for  Mr.   Gryce 

after  a  deaf  servant,  no  awkward  stumbling  over 
rugs  to  shut  it  himself.  I  don't  know  but  I  ap 
prove  of  this  contrivance,  only here  he 

caught  a  rather  serious  expression  on  Mr.  Gryce's 
face — "  the  slide  seems  to  be  of  a  somewhat  curi 
ous  construction.  It  is  not  made  of  wood,  as  any 
sensible  door  ought  to  be,  but  of— 

"Steel,"  finished  Mr.  Gryce  in  an  odd  tone. 
"This  is  the  strangest  thing  yet.  It  begins  to 
look  as  if  Mr.  Adams  was  daft  on  electrical  con 
trivances." 

"And  as  if  we  were  prisoners  here,"  supple 
mented  the  other.  "  I  do  not  see  any  means  for 
drawing  this  slide  back." 

"  Oh,  there's  another  button  for  that,  of  course," 
Mr.  Gryce  carelessly  remarked. 

But  they  failed  to  find  one. 

"  If  you  don't  object,"  observed  Mr.  Gryce,  after 
five  minutes  of  useless  search,  "  I  will  turn  a 
more  cheerful  light  upon  the  scene.  Yellow  does 
not  seem  to  fit  the  occasion." 

"  Give  us  rose,  for  unless  you  have  some  one  on 
the  other  side  of  this  steel  plate,  we  seem  likely 
to  remain  here  till  morning." 

"  There  is  a  man  upstairs  whom  we  may  perhaps 
make  hear,  but  what  does  this  contrivance  por- 

39 


The  Circular  Study 

tend?  It  has  a  serious  look  to  me,  when  you  con 
sider  that  every  window  in  these  two  rooms  has 
been  built  up  almost  under  the  roof. " 

"  Yes ;  a  very  strange  look.  But  before  engag 
ing  in  its  consideration  I  should  like  a  breath  of 
fresh  air.  I  cannot  do  anything  while  in  confine 
ment.  My  brain  won't  work." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Gryce  was  engaged  in  examin 
ing  the  huge  plate  of  steel  which  served  as  a  bar 
rier  to  their  egress.  He  found  that  it  had  been 
made — certainly  at  great  expense — to  fit  the  curve 
of  the  walls  through  which  it  passed.  This  was 
a  discovery  of  some  consequence,  causing  Mr. 
Gryce  to  grow  still  more  thoughtful  and  to  eye 
the  smooth  steel  plate  under  his  hand  with  an  air 
of  marked  distrust. 

"  Mr.  Adams  carried  his  taste  for  the  mechanical 
to  great  extremes,"  he  remarked  to  the  slightly  un 
easy  man  beside  him.  "  This  slide  is  very  care 
fully  fitted,  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  will  stand 
some  battering  before  we  are  released." 

"  I  wish  that  his  interest  in  electricity  had  led 
him  to  attach  such  a  simple  thing  as  a  bell." 

"  True,  we  have  come  across  no  bell." 

"  It  would  have  smacked  too  much  of  the  ordi 
nary  to  please  him." 

40 


A  New  Experience  for  Mr.  Gryce 

"  Besides,  his  only  servant  was  deaf." 

"  Try  the  effect  of  a  blow,  a  quick  blow  with 
this  silver- mounted  alpenstock.  Some  one  should 
hear  and  come  to  our  assistance." 

"  I  will  try  my  whistle  first ;  it  will  be  better 
understood." 

But  though  Mr.  Gryce  both  whistled  and  struck 
many  a  resounding  knock  upon  the  barrier  before 
them,  it  was  an  hour  before  he  could  draw  the  at 
tention  of  Styles,  and  five  hours  before  an  open 
ing  could  be  effected  in  the  wall  large  enough  to 
admit  of  their  escape,  so  firmly  was  this  barrier  of 
steel  fixed  across  the  sole  outlet  from  this  remark 
able  room. 


CHAPTER   V. 

FIVE    SMALL    SPANGLES. 

SUCH  an  experience  could  not  fail  to  emphasize 
Mr.  Gryce's  interest  in  the  case  and  heighten  the 
determination  he  had  formed  to  probe  its  secrets 
and  explain  all  its  extraordinary  features.  Arrived 
at  Headquarters,  where  his  presence  was  doubtless 
awaited  with  some  anxiety  by  those  who  knew 
nothing  of  the  cause  of  his  long  detention,  his  first 
act  was  to  inquire  if  Bartow,  the  butler,  had  come 
to  his  senses  during  the  night. 

The  answer  was  disappointing.  Not  only  was 
there  no  change  in  his  condition,  but  the  expert  in 
lunacy  who  had  been  called  in  to  pass  upon  his 
case  had  expressed  an  opinion  unfavorable  to  his 
immediate  recovery. 

Mr.  Gryce  looked  sober,  and,  summoning  the 
officer  who  had  managed  Bartow's  arrest,  he  asked 
how  the  mute  had  acted  when  he  found  himself 
detained. 

The  answer  was  curt,  but  very  much  to  the 

point. 

42 


Five  Small  Spangles 

"  Surprised,  sir.  Shook  his  head  and  made 
some  queer  gestures,  then  went  through  his  pan 
tomime.  It's  quite  a  spectacle,  sir.  Poor  fool, 
he  keeps  holding  his  hand  back,  so." 

Mr.  Gryce  noted  the  gesture;  it  was  the  same 
which  Bartow  had  made  when  he  first  realized  that 
he  had  spectators.  Its  meaning  was  not  wholly 
apparent.  He  had  made  it  with  his  right  hand 
(there  was  no  evidence  that  the  mute  was  left- 
handed),  and  he  continued  to  make  it  as  if  with 
this  movement  he  expected  to  call  attention  to 
some  fact  that  would  relieve  him  from  custody. 

"Does  he  mope?  Is  his  expression  one  of  fear 
or  anger  ? " 

"  It  varies,  sir.  One  minute  he  looks  like  a 
man  on  the  point  of  falling  asleep ;  the  next  he 
starts  up  in  fury,  shaking  his  head  and  pounding 
the  walls.  It's  not  a  comfortable  sight,  sir.  He 
will  have  to  be  watched  night  and  day." 

"  Let  him  be,  and  note  every  change  in  him. 
His  testimony  may  not  be  valid,  but  there  is  sug 
gestion  in  every  movement  he  makes.  To-mor 
row  I  will  visit  him  myself." 

The  officer  went  out,  and  Mr.  Gryce  sat  for  a 
few  moments  communing  with  himself,  during 
which  he  took  out  a  little  package  from  his  pocket, 

43 


The  Circular  Study 

and  emptying  out  on  his  desk  the  five  little 
spangles  it  contained,  regarded  them  intently. 
He  had  always  been  fond  of  looking  at  some  small 
and  seemingly  insignificant  object  while  think 
ing.  It  served  to  concentrate  his  thoughts,  no 
doubt.  At  all  events,  some  such  result  appeared 
to  follow  the  contemplation  of  these  five  sequins, 
for  after  shaking  his  head  doubtfully  over  them 
for  a  time,  he  made  a  sudden  move,  and  sweeping 
them  into  the  envelope  from  which  he  had  taken 
them,  he  gave  a  glance  at  his  watch  and  passed 
quickly  into  the  outer  office,  where  he  paused  be 
fore  a  line  of  waiting  men.  Beckoning  to  one  who 
had  followed  his  movements  with  an  interest  which 
had  not  escaped  the  eye  of  this  old  reader  of  hu 
man  nature,  he  led  the  way  back  to  his  own  room. 

"  You  want  a  hand  in  this  matter?  "  he  said  in 
terrogatively,  as  the  door  closed  behind  them  and 
they  found  themselves  alone. 

"Oh,  sir — "  began  the  young  man  in  a  glow 
which  made  his  more  than  plain  features  interest 
ing  to  contemplate,  "  I  do  not  presume ' 

"Enough!"  interposed  the  other.  "You  have 
been  here  now  for  six  months,  and  have  had  no 
opportunity  as  yet  for  showing  any  special  adapta 
bility.  Now  I  propose  to  test  your  powers  with 

44 


Five  Small  Spangles 

something  really  difficult.  Are  you  up  to  it, 
Sweetwater?  Do  you  know  the  city  well  enough 
to  attempt  to  find  a  needle  in  this  very  big  hay 
stack?" 

"  I  should  at  least  like  to  try,"  was  the  eager 
response.  "  If  I  succeed  it  will  be  a  bigger  feather 
in  my  cap  than  if  I  had  always  lived  in  New  York. 
I  have  been  spoiling  for  some  such  opportunity. 
See  if  I  don't  make  the  effort  judiciously,  if  only 
out  of  gratitude." 

"Well,  we  shall  see,"  remarked  the  old  detec 
tive.  "  If  it's  difficulty  you  long  to  encounter, 
you  will  be  likely  to  have  all  you  want  of  it.  In 
deed,  it  is  the  impossible  I  ask.  A  woman  is  to 
be  found  of  whom  we  know  nothing  save  that  she 
wore  when  last  seen  a  dress  heavily  bespangled 
with  black,  and  that  she  carried  in  her  visit  to  Mr. 
Adams,  at  the  time  of  or  before  the  murder,  a 
parasol,  of  which  I  can  procure  you  a  glimpse  be 
fore  you  start  out.  She  came  from,  I  don't  know 
where,  and  she  went — but  that  is  what  you  are  to 
find  out.  You  are  not  the  only  man  who  is  to  be 
put  on  the  job,  which,  as  you  see,  is  next  door  to 
a  hopeless  one,  unless  the  woman  comes  forward 
and  proclaims  herself.  Indeed,  I  should  despair 
utterly  of  your  success  if  it  were  not  for  one  small 

45 


The  Circular  Study 

fact  which  I  will  now  proceed  to  give  you  as  my 
special  and  confidential  agent  in  this  matter. 
When  this  woman  was  about  to  disappear  from 
the  one  eye  that  was  watching  her,  she  approached 
the  curbstone  in  front  of  Hudson's  fruit  store  on 
1 4th  Street  and  lifted  up  her  right  hand,  so.  It  is 
not  much  of  a  clew,  but  it  is  all  I  have  at  my  dis 
posal,  except  these  five  spangles  dropped  from  her 
dress,  and  my  conviction  that  she  is  not  to  be 
found  among  the  questionable  women  of  the  town, 
but  among  those  who  seldom  or  never  come  under 
the  eye  of  the  police.  Yet  don't  let  this  convic 
tion  hamper  you.  Convictions  as  a  rule  are  bad 
things,  and  act  as  a  hindrance  rather  than  an  in 
spiration.  " 

Sweetwater,  to  whom  the  song  of  the  sirens  would 
have  sounded  less  sweet,  listened  with  delight  and 
responded  with  a  frank  smile  and  a  gay : 

"I'll  do  my  best,  sir,  but  don't  show  me  the 
parasol,  only  describe  it.  I  wouldn't  like  the  fel 
lows  to  chaff  me  if  I  fail ;  I'd  rather  go  quietly  to 
work  and  raise  no  foolish  expectations." 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  one  of  those  dainty,  nonsensi 
cal  things  made  of  gray  chiffon,  with  pearl  handle 
and  bows  of  pink  ribbon.  I  don't  believe  it  was 

ever  used  before,  and  from  the  value  women  usu- 

46 


Five  Small  Spangles 

ally  place  on  such  fol-de-rols,  could  only  have 
been  left  behind  under  the  stress  of  extraordinary 
emotion  or  fear.  The  name  of  the  owner  was  not 
on  it." 

"Nor  that  of  the  maker?" 

Mr.  Gryce  had  expected  this  question,  and  was 
glad  not  to  be  disappointed. 

"  No,  that  would  have  helped  us  too  much." 

"  And  the  hour  at  which  this  lady  was  seen  on 
the  curbstone  at  Hudson's?  " 

"  Half- past  four;  the  moment  at  which  the  tele 
phone  message  arrived." 

"  Very  good,  sir.  It  is  the  hardest  task  I  have 
ever  undertaken,  but  that's  not  against  it.  When 
shall  I  see  you  again  ?  " 

"When  you  have  something  to  impart.  'Ah, 
wait  a  minute.  I  have  my  suspicion  that  this 
woman's  first  name  is  Evelyn.  But,  mind,  it  is 
only  a  suspicion." 

"All  right,  sir,"  and  with  an  air  of  some  confi 
dence,  the  young  man  disappeared. 

Mr.  Gryce  did  not  look  as  if  he  shared  young 
Sweetwater's  cheerfulness.  The  mist  surrounding 
this  affair  was  as  yet  impenetrable  to  him.  But 
then  he  was  not  twenty-three,  with  only  triumph 
ant  memories  behind  him. 

47 


The  Circular  Study 

His  next  hope  lay  in  the  information  likely  to 
accrue  from  the  published  accounts  of  this  crime, 
now  spread  broadcast  over  the  country.  A  man 
of  Mr.  Adams's  wealth  and  culture  must  necessa 
rily  have  possessed  many  acquaintances,  whom  the 
surprising  news  of  his  sudden  death  would  natur 
ally  bring  to  light,  especially  as  no  secret  was 
made  of  his  means  and  many  valuable  effects. 
But  as  if  this  affair,  destined  to  be  one  of  the  last 
to  engage  the  powers  of  this  sagacious  old  man, 
refused  on  this  very  account  to  yield  any  immedi 
ate  results  to  his  investigation,  the  whole  day 
passed  by  without,  the  appearance  of  any  claimant 
for  Mr.  Adams's  fortune  or  the  arrival  on  the  scene 
of  any  friend  capable  of  lifting  the  veil  which 
shrouded  the  life  of  this  strange  being.  To  be 
sure,  his  banker  and  his  lawyer  came  forward  dur 
ing  the  day,  but  they  had  little  to  reveal  beyond 
the  fact  that  his  pecuniary  affairs  were  in  good 
shape  and  that,  so  far  as  they  knew,  he  was  with 
out  family  or  kin. 

Even  his  landlord  could  add  little  to  the  general 
knowledge.  He  had  first  heard  of  Mr.  Adams 
through  a  Philadelphia  lawyer,  since  dead,  who 
had  assured  him  of  his  client's  respectability  and 

undoubted  ability  to  pay  his  rent.      When  they 
48 


Five  Small  Spangles 

came  together  and  Mr.  Adams  was  introduced  to 
him,  he  had  been  struck,  first,  by  the  ascetic  ap 
pearance  of  his  prospective  tenant,  and,  secondly, 
by  his  reserved  manners  and  quiet  intelligence. 
But  admirable  as  he  had  found  him,  he  had  never 
succeeded  in  making  his  acquaintance.  The  rent 
had  been  uniformly  paid  with  great  exactitude  on 
the  very  day  it  was  due,  but  his  own  visits  had  never 
been  encouraged  or  his  advances  met  by  anything 
but  the  cold  politeness  of  a  polished  and  totally 
indifferent  man.  Indeed,  he  had  always  looked 
upon  his  tenant  as  a  bookworm,  absorbed  in  study 
and  such  scientific  experiments  as  could  be  carried 
on  with  no  other  assistance  than  that  of  his  deaf 
and  dumb  servant. 

Asked  if  he  knew  anything  about  this  servant, 
he  answered  that  his  acquaintance  with  him  was 
limited  to  the  two  occasions  on  which  he  had  been 
ushered  by  him  into  his  master's  presence;  that 
he  knew  nothing  of  his  character  and  general  dis 
position,  and  could  not  say  whether  his  attitude 
toward  his  master  had  been  one  of  allegiance  or 
antagonism. 

And  so  the  way  was  blocked  in  this  direction. 

Taken  into  the  room  where  Mr.  Adams  had 
died,  he  surveyed  in  amazement  the  huge  steel 

49 


The   Circular  Study 

plate  which  still  blocked  the  doorway,  and  the 
high  windows  through  which  only  a  few  straggling 
sunbeams  could  find  their  way. 

Pointing  to  the  windows,  he  remarked : 

"  These  were  filled  in  at  Mr.  Adams's  request. 
Originally  they  extended  down  to  the  wains 
coting." 

He  was  shown  where  lath  and  plaster  had  been 
introduced  and  also  how  the  plate  had  been  pre 
pared  and  arranged  as  a  barrier.  But  he  could 
give  no  explanation  of  it  or  divine  the  purpose  for 
which  it  had  been  placed  there  at  so  great  an  ex 
pense. 

The  lamp  was  another  curiosity,  and  its  varying 
lights  the  cause  of  increased  astonishment.  In 
deed  he  had  known  nothing  of  these  arrangements, 
having  been  received  in  the  parlor  when  he  visited 
the  house,  where  there  was  nothing  to  attract  his 
attention  or  emphasize  the  well-known  oddities  of 
his  tenant. 

He  was  not  shown  the  starling.  That  loqua 
cious  bird  had  been  removed  to  police  headquar 
ters  for  the  special  delectation  of  Mr.  Gryce. 

Other  inquiries  failed  also.  No  clew  to  the 
owner  of  the  insignia  found  on  the  wall  could  be 
gained  at  the  pension  office  or  at  any  of  the  G.  A.  R. 

50 


Five  Small  Spangles 

posts  inside  the  city.  Nor  was  the  name  of  the 
artist  who  had  painted  the  portrait  which  adorned 
so  large  a  portion  of  the  wall  a  recognized  one  in 
New  York  City.  Otherwise  a  clew  might  have 
been  obtained  through  him  to  Mr.  Adams's  ante 
cedents.  All  the  drawers  and  receptacles  in  Mr. 
Adams's  study  had  been  searched,  but  no  will 
had  been  found  nor  any  business  documents.  It 
was  as  if  this  strange  man  had  sought  to  suppress 
his  identity,  or,  rather,  as  if  he  had  outgrown  all 
interest  in  his  kind  or  in  anything  beyond  the 
walls  within  which  he  had  immured  himself. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  reports  began  to  come  in 
from  the  various  tradesmen  with  whom  Mr.  Adams 
had  done  business.  They  all  had  something  to  say 
as  to  the  peculiarity  of  his  habits  and  the  freaks 
of  his  mute  servant.  They  were  both  described 
as  hermits,  differing  from  the  rest  of  their  kind 
only  in  that  they  denied  themselves  no  reasonable 
luxury  and  seemed  to  have  adopted  a  shut-in  life 
from  a  pure  love  of  seclusion.  The  master  was 
never  seen  at  the  stores.  It  was  the  servant  who 
made  the  purchases,  and  this  by  means  of  gestures 
which  were  often  strangely  significant.  Indeed, 
he  seemed  to  have  great  power  of  expressing  him 
self  by  looks  and  actions,  and  rarely  caused  a  mis- 

4  51 


The  Circular  Study 

take  or  made  one.  He  would  not  endure  cheating, 
and  always  bought  the  best. 

Of  his  sanity  up  to  the  day  of  his  master's  death 
there  was  no  question;  but  more  than  one  man 
with  whom  he  had  had  dealings  was  ready  to  tes 
tify  that  there  had  been  a  change  in  his  manner  for 
the  past  few  weeks — a  sort  of  subdued  excitement, 
quite  unlike  his  former  methodical  bearing.  He 
had  shown  an  inclination  to  testiness,  and  was  less 
easily  pleased  than  formerly.  To  one  clerk  he 
had  shown  a  nasty  spirit  under  very  slight  provo 
cation,  and  was  only  endured  in  the  store  on  ac 
count  of  his  master,  who  was:  too  good  a  customer 
for  them  to  offend.  Mr.  Kelly,  a  grocer,  went  so 
far  as  to  say  he  acted  like  a  man  with  a  grievance 
who  burned  to  vent  his  spite  on  some  one,  but 
held  himself  in  forcible  restraint. 

Perhaps  if  no  tragedy  had  taken  place  in  the 

house  on Street  these  various  persons  would 

not  have  been  so  ready  to  interpret  thus  unfavor 
ably  a  nervousness  excusable  enough  in  one  so  cut 
off  from  all  communication  with  his  kind.  But 
with  the  violent  end  of  his  master  in  view,  and  his 
own  unexplained  connection  with  it,  who  could 
help  recalling  that  his  glance  had  frequently 
shown  malevolence? 

52 


Five  Small   Spangles 

But  this  was  not  evidence  of  the  decided  char 
acter  required^  by  the  law,  and  Mr.  Gryce  was 
about  to  regard  the  day  as  a  lost  one,  when  Sweet- 
water  made  his  reappearance  at  Headquarters. 
The  expression  of  his  face  put  new  life  into  Mr. 
Gryce. 

"  What !  "  he  cried,  "  you  have  not  found  her?  " 
Sweetwater  smiled.  "  Don't  'ask  me,  sir,  not 
yet.  I've  come  to  see  if  there's  any  reason  why 
I  should  not  be  given  the  loan  of  that  parasol  for 
about  an  hour.  I'll  bring  it  back.  I  only  want  to 
make  a  certain  test  with  it." 

"What  test,  my  boy?     May  I  ask,  what  test?  " 

"Please  to  excuse  me,  sir;  I  have  only  a  short 

time  in  which  to  act  before  respectable  business 

houses  shut  up  for  the  night,  and  the  test  I  speak 

of  has  to  be  made  in  a  respectable  house." 

"  Then  you  shall  not  be  hindered.  Wait  here, 
and  I  will  bring  you  the  parasol.  There !  bring  it 
back  soon,  my  boy.  I  have  not  the  patience  I 
used  to  have." 

"  An  hour,  sir;  give  me  an  hour,  and  then " 

The  shutting  of  the  door  behind  his  flying  figure 
cut  short  his  sentence. 

That  was  a  long  hour  to  Mr.  Gryce,  or  would 
have  been  if  it  had  not  mercifully  been  cut  short 

53 


The  Circular  Study 

by  the  return  of  Sweetwater  in  an  even  more  ex 
cited  state  of  mind  than  he  had  been  before.  He 
held  the  parasol  in  his  hand. 

"My  test  failed,"  said  he,  "but  the  parasol  has 
brought  me  luck,  notwithstanding.  I  have  found 
the  lady,  sir,  and ' 

He  had  to  draw  a  long  breath  before  proceed 
ing. 

"And  she  is  what  I  said,"  began  the  detective; 
"a  respectable  person  in  a  respectable  house." 

"Yes,  sir;  very  respectable,  more  respectable 
than  I  expected  to  see.  Quite  a  lady,  sir.  Not 
young,  but " 

"  Her  name,  boy.      Is  it — Evelyn  ?  " 

Sweetwater  shook  his  head  with  a  look  as  nai've 
in  its  way  as  the  old  detective's  question. 

"  I  cannot  say,  sir.  Indeed,  I  had  not  the  cour 
age  to  ask.  She  is  here " 

"  Here  !  "  Mr.  Gryce  took  one  hurried  step  tow 
ard  the  door,  then  came  gravely  back.  "  I  can 
restrain  myself,"  he  said.  "If  she  is  here,  she 
will  not  go  till  I  have  seen  her.  Are  you  sure 
you  have  made  no  mistake ;  that  she  is  the  woman 
we  are  after;  the  woman  who  was  in  Mr.  Adams's 
house  and  sent  us  the  warning?  " 

"Will  you  hear  my  story,  sir?  It  will  take 
54 


Five  Small  Spangles 

only  a  moment.  Then  you  can  judge  for  your 
self." 

"  Your  story  ?  It  must  be  a  pretty  one.  How 
came  you  to  light  on  this  woman  so  soon?  By 
using  the  clew  I  gave  you?" 

Again  Sweetwater's  expression  took  on  a  touch 
of  nai'vete. 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir;  but  I  was  egotistical  enough  to 
follow  my  own  idea.  It  would  have  taken  too 
much  time  to  hunt  up  all  the  drivers  of  hacks  in 
the  city,  and  I  could  not  even  be  sure  she  had 
made  use  of  a  public  conveyance.  No,  sir;  I 
bethought  me  of  another  way  by  which  I  might 
reach  this  woman.  You  had  shown  me  those 
spangles.  They  were  portions  of  a  very  rich  trim 
ming;  a  trimming  which  has  only  lately  come  into 
vogue,  and  which  is  so  expensive  that  it  is  worn 
chiefly  by  women  of  means,  and  sold  only  in  shops 
where  elaborate  garnitures  are  to  be  found.  I 
have  seen  and  noticed  dresses  thus  trimmed,  in 
certain  windows  and  on  certain  ladies ;  and  before 
you  showed  me  the  spangles  you  picked  up  in  Mr. 
Adams's  study  could  have  told  you  just  how  I  had 
seen  them  arranged.  They  are  sewed  on  black 
net,  in  figures,  sir;  in  scrolls  or  wreaths  or  what 
ever  you  choose  to  call  them ;  and  so  conspicuous 

55 


The  Circular  Study 

are  these  wreaths  or  figures,  owing  to  the  brill 
iance  of  the  spangles  composing  them,  that  any 
break  in  their  continuity  is  plainly  apparent,  es 
pecially  if  the  net  be  worn  over  a  color,  as  is  fre 
quently  the  case.  Remembering  this,  and  recall 
ing  the  fact  that  these  spangles  doubtless  fell  from 
one  of  the  front  breadths,  where  their  loss  would 
attract  not  only  the  attention  of  others,  but  that 
of  the  wearer,  I  said  to  myself,  '  What  will  she  be 
likely  to  do  when  she  finds  her  dress  thus  disfig 
ured  ?  '  And  the  answer  at  once  came  :  '  If  she  is 
the  lady  Mr.  Gryce  considers  her,  she  will  seek  to 
restore  these  missing  spangles,  especially  if  they 
were  lost  on  a  scene  of  crime.  But  where  can  she 
get  them  to  sew  on  ?  From  an  extra  piece  of  net 
of  the  same  style.  But  she  will  not  be  apt  to  have 
an  extra  piece  of  net.  She  will,  therefore,  find 
herself  obliged  to  buy  it,  and  since  only  a  few 
spangles  are  lacking,  she  will  buy  the  veriest 
strip.'  Here,  then,  was  my  clew,  or  at  least  my 
ground  for  action.  Going  the  rounds  of  the  few 
leading  stores  on  Broadway,  23d  Street,  and  Sixth 
Avenue,  I  succeeded  in  getting  certain  clerks  in 
terested  in  my  efforts,  so  that  I  speedily  became 
assured  that  if  a  lady  came  into  these  stores  for  a 
very  small  portion  of  this  bespangled  net,  they 

56 


Five  Small  Spangles 

would  note  her  person  and,  if  possible,  procure 
some  clew  to  her  address.  Then  I  took  up  my 
stand  at  Arnold's  emporium.  Why  Arnold's  ?  I 
do  not  know.  Perhaps  my  good  genius  meant  me 
to  be  successful  in  this  quest ;  but  whether  through 
luck  or  what  not,  I  was  successful,  for  before  the 
afternoon  was  half  over,  I  encountered  a  meaning 
glance  from  one  of  the  men  behind  the  counter, 
and  advancing  toward  him,  saw  him  rolling  a  small 
package  which  he  handed  over  to  a  very  pretty  and 
rosy  young  girl,  who  at  once  walked  away  with  it. 
'  For  one  of  our  leading  customers,'  he  whispered, 
as  I  drew  nearer.  '  I  don't  think  she  is  the  person 
you  want.'  But  I  would  take  no  chances.  I  fol 
lowed  the  young  girl  who  had  carried  away  the 
parcel,  and  by  this  means  came  to  a  fine  brown- 
stone  front  in  one  of  our  most  retired  and  aristo 
cratic  quarters.  When  I  had  seen  her  go  in  at  the 
basement  door,  I  rang  the  bell  above,  and  then — 
well,  I  just  bit  my  lips  to  keep  down  my  growing 
excitement.  For  such  an  effort  as  this  might  well 
end  in  disappointment,  and  I  knew  if  I  were  dis 
appointed  now —  But  no  such  trial  awaited  me. 
The  maid  who  came  to  the  door  proved  to  be  the 
same  merry-eyed  lass  I  had  seen  leave  the  store. 
Indeed,  she  had  the  identical  parcel  in  her  hand 

57 


The  Circular  Study 

which  was  the  connecting  link  between  the  im 
posing  house  at  whose  door  I  stood  and  the 
strange  murder  in Street.  But  I  did  not  al 
low  my  interest  in  this  parcel  to  become  apparent, 
and  by  the  time  I  addressed  her  I  had  so  mastered 
myself  as  to  arouse  no  suspicion  of  the  importance 
of  my  errand.  You,  of  course,  foresee  the  question 
I  put  to  the  young  girl.  '  Has  your  mistress  lost 
a  parasol?  One  has  been  found — '  I  did  not 
finish  the  sentence,  for  I  perceived  by  her  look 
that  her  mistress  had  met  with  such  a  loss,  and  as 
this  was  all  I  war  ted  to  know  just  then,  I  cried 
out,  *  I  will  bring  it.  If  it  is  hers,  all  right,'  and 
bounded  down  the  steps. 

"  My  intention  was  to  inform  you  of  what  I  had 
done  and  ask  your  advice.  But  my  egotism  got 
the  better  of  me.  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  make  sure 
that  I  was  not  the  victim  of  a  coincidence.  Such 
a  respectable  house !  Such  a  respectable  maid 
servant  !  Should  she  recognize  the  parasol  as  be 
longing  to  her  mistress,  then,  indeed,  I  might  boast 
of  my  success.  So  praying  you  for  a  loan  of  this 
article,  I  went  back  and  rang  the  bell  again.  The 
same  girl  came  to  the  door.  I  think  fortune  fa 
vored  me  to-day.  '  Here  is  the  parasol,'  said  I, 
but  before  the  words  were  out  of  my  mouth  I  saw 

58 


Five  Small  Spangles 

that  the  girl  had  taken  the  alarm  or  that  some 
grievous  mistake  had  been  made.  '  That  is  not 
the  one  my  mistress  lost,'  said  she.  '  She  never 
carries  anything  but  black.'  And  the  door  was 
about  to  close  between  us  when  I  heard  a  voice 
from  within  call  out  peremptorily :  '  Let  me  see 
that  parasol.  Hold  it  up,  young  man.  There! 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Ah ! ' 

"  If  ever  an  exclamation  was  eloquent  that  sim 
ple  '  ah  ! '  was.  I  could  not  see  the  speaker,  but  I 
knew  she  was  leaning  over  the  banisters  from  the 
landing  above.  I  listened  to  hear  her  glide  away. 
But  she  did  not  move.  She  was  evidently  collect 
ing  herself  for  the  emergency  of  the  moment. 
Presently  she  spoke  again,  and  I  was  astonished  at 
her  tone :  '  You  have  come  from  Police  Head 
quarters,'  was  the  remark  with  which  she  hailed 
me. 

"  I  lowered  the  parasol.  I  did  not  think  it  nec 
essary  to  say  yes. 

" '  From  a  man  there,  called  Gryce,'  she  went 
on,  still  in  that  strange  tone  I  can  hardly  describe, 
sir. 

"  '  Since  you  ask  me,'  I  now  replied,  '  I  acknowl 
edge  that  it  is  through  his  instructions  I  am  here. 
He  was  anxious  to  restore  to  you  your  lost  property. 

59 


The  Circular  Study 

Is  not  this  parasol  yours  ?  Shall  I  not  leave  it  with 
this  young  girl  ?  ' 

"  The  answer  was  dry,  almost  rasping :  '  Mr. 
Gryce  has  made  a  mistake.  The  parasol  is  not 
mine ;  yet  he  certainly  deserves  credit  for  the  use 
he  has  made  of  it,  in  this  search.  I  should  like  to 
tell  him  so.  Is  he  at  his  office,  and  do  you  think  I 
would  be  received?  ' 

"'  He  would  be  delighted,'  I  returned,  not  im 
agining  she  was  in  earnest.  But  she  was,  sir.  In 
less  time  than  you  would  believe,  I  perceived  a 
very  stately,  almost  severe,  lady  descend  the 
stairs.  She  was  dressed  for  the  street,  and  spoke 
to  me  with  quite  an  air  of  command.  '  Have  you 
a  cab  ? '  •  she  asked. 

"'No,'  said  I. 

"'  Then  get  one/ 

"  Here  was  a  dilemma.  Should  I  leave  her  and 
thus  give  her  an  opportunity  to  escape,  or  should 
I  trust  to  her  integrity  and  the  honesty  of  her  look, 
which  was  no  common  one,  sir,  and  obey  her  as 
every  one  about  her  was  evidently  accustomed  to 
do? 

"  I  concluded  to  trust  to  her  integrity,  and  went 
for  the  cab.  But  it  was  a  risk,  sir,  which  I  prom 
ise  not  to  repeat  in  the  future.  She  was  awaiting 

60 


Five  Small  Spangles 

me  on  the  stoop  when  I  got  back,  and  at  once  en 
tered  the  hack  with  a  command  to  drive  immedi 
ately  to  Police  Headquarters.  I  saw  her  as  I 
came  in  just  now  sitting  in  the  outer  office,  wait 
ing  for  you.  Are  you  ready  to  say  I  have  done 
well?" 

Mr.  Gryce,  with  an  indescribable  look  of  min 
gled  envy  and  indulgence,  pressed  the  hand  held 
out  to  him,  and  passed  out.  His  curiosity  could 
be  restrained  no  longer,  and  he  went  at  once  to 
where  this  mysterious  woman  was  awaiting  him. 
Did  he  think  it  odd  that  she  knew  him,  that  she 
sought  him  ?  If  so,  he  did  not  betray  this  in  his 
manner,  which  was  one  of  great  respect.  But 
that  manner  suddenly  changed  as  he  came  face  to 
face  with  the  lady  in  question.  Not  that  it  lost 
its  respect,  but  that  it  betrayed  an  astonishment 
of  a  more  pronounced  character  than  was  usually 
indulged  in  by  this  experienced  detective.  The 
lady  before  him  was  one  well  known  to  him ;  in 
fact,  almost  an  associate  of  his  in  certain  bygone 
matters;  in  other  words,  none  other  than  that 
most  reputable  of  ladies,  Miss  Amelia  Butterworth 
of  Gramercy  Park. 


61 


CHAPTER   VI. 

SUGGESTIONS    FROM    AN    OLD    FRIEND. 

THE  look  with  which  this  amiable  spinster  met 
his  eye  was  one  which  a  stranger  would  have  found 
it  hard  to  understand.  He  found  it  hard  to  under 
stand  himself,  perhaps  because  he  had  never  before 
seen  this  lady  when  she  was  laboring  under  an 
opinion  of  herself  that  was  not  one  of  perfect  com 
placency. 

"  Miss  Butterworth !  What  does  this  mean  ? 
Have  you " 

"  There !  "  The  word  came  with  some  sharp 
ness.  "  You  have  detected  me  at  my  old  tricks, 
and  I  am  correspondingly  ashamed,  and  you  tri 
umphant.  The  gray  parasol  you  have  been  good 
enough  to  send  to  my  house  is  not  mine,  but  I  was 
in  the  room  where  you  picked  it  up,  as  you  have 
so  cleverly  concluded,  and  as  it  is  useless  for  me 
to  evade  your  perspicacity,  I  have  come  here  to 
confess." 

"  Ah !  "     The  detective  was  profoundly  inter- 
62 


Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

ested  at  once.  He  drew  a  chair  up  to  Miss  But- 
terworth's  side  and  sat  down.  "  You  were  there !  " 
he  repeated ;  "  and  when  ?  I  do  not  presume  to 
ask  for  what  purpose. " 

"  But  I  shall  have  to  explain  my  purpose  not  to 
find  myself  at  too  great  a  disadvantage,"  she  replied 
with  grim  decision.  "  Not  that  I  like  to  display 
my  own  weakness,  but  that  I  recognize  the  exigen 
cies  of  the  occasion,  and  fully  appreciate  your  sur 
prise  at  finding  that  I,  a  stranger  to  Mr.  Adams, 
and  without  the  excuse  which  led  to  my  former 
interference  in  police  matters,  should  have  so  far 
forgotten  myself  as  to  be  in  my  present  position 
before  you.  This  was  no  affair  of  my  immediate 
neighbor,  nor  did  it  seek  me.  I  sought  it,  sir,  and 
in  this  way.  I  wish  I  had  gone  to  Jericho  first ;  it 
might  have  meant  longer  travel  and  much  more 
expense ;  but  it  would  have  involved  me  in  less 
humiliation  and  possible  publicity.  Mr.  Gryce, 
I  never  meant  to  be  mixed  up  with  another  mur 
der  case.  I  have  shown  my  aptitude  for  detective 
work  and  received,  ere  now,  certain  marks  of  your 
approval ;  but  my  head  was  not  turned  by  them — 
at  least  I  thought  not — and  I  was  tolerably  sincere 
in  my  determination  to  keep  to  my  own  metier  in 
future  and  not  suffer  myself  to  be  allured  by  any 

63 


The   Circular  Study 

inducements  you  might  offer  into  the  exercise  of 
gifts  which  may  have  brought  me  praise  in  the 
past,  but  certainly  have  not  brought  me  happiness. 
But  the  temptation  came,  not  through  you,  or  I 
might  have  resisted  it,  but  through  a  combination 
of  circumstances  which  found  me  weak,  and,  in  a 
measure,  unprepared.  In  other  words,  I  was  sur 
prised  into  taking  an  interest  in  this  affair.  Oh,  I 
am  ashamed  of  it,  so  ashamed  that  I  have  made  the 
greatest  endeavor  to  hide  my  participation  in  the 
matter,  and  thinking  I  had  succeeded  in  doing  so, 
was  congratulating  myself  upon  my  precautions, 
when  I  found  that  parasol  thrust  in  my  face  and 
realized  that  you,  if  no  one  else,  knew  that  Ame 
lia  Butterworth  had  been  in  Mr.  Adams's  room  of 
death  prior  to  yourself.  Yet  I  thought  I  had  left 

no  traces  behind  me.     Could  you  have  seen 

"  Miss  Butterworth,  you  dropped  five  small 
spangles  from  your  robe.  You  wore  a  dress  span 
gled  with  black  sequins,  did  you  not?  Besides, 
you  moved  the  inkstand,  and —  Well,  I  wiH 
never  put  faith  in  circumstantial  evidence  again. 
I  saw  these  tokens  of  a  woman's  presence,  heard 
what  the  boy  had  to  say  of  the  well-dressed  lady 
who  had  sent  him  into  the  drug-store  with  a  mes 
sage  to  the  police,  and  drew  the  conclusion — I  may 


Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

admit  it  to  you — that  it  was  this  woman  who  had 
wielded  the  assassin's  dagger,  and  not  the  deaf- 
and-dumb  butler,  who,  until  now,  has  borne  the 
blame  of  it.  Therefore  I  was  anxious  to  find  her, 
little  realizing  what  would  be  the  result  of  my 
efforts,  or  that  I  should  have  to  proffer  her  my 
most  humble  apologies. " 

"  Do  not  apologize  to  me.  I  had  no  business  to 
be  there,  or,  at  least,  to  leave  the  five  spangles  you 
speak  of,  behind  me  on  Mr.  Adams's  miserable  floor. 
I  was  simply  passing  by  the  house ;  and  had  I  been 
the  woman  I  once  was,  that  is,  a  woman  who  had 
never  dipped  into  a  mystery,  I  should  have  con 
tinued  on  my  way,  instead  of  turning  aside.  Sir, 
it's  a  curious  sensation  to  find  yourself,  however 
innocent,  regarded  by  a  whole  city  full  of  people 
as  the  cause  or  motive  of  a  terrible  murder,  es 
pecially  when  you  have  spent  some  time,  as  I 
have,  in  the  study  of  crime  and  the  pursuit  of 
criminals.  I  own  I  don't  enjoy  the  experience. 
But  I  have  brought  it  on  myself.  If  I  had  not 
been  so  curious —  But  it  was  not  curiosity  I  felt. 
I  will  never  own  that  I  am  subject  to  mere  curi 
osity  ;  it  was  the  look  on  the  young  man's  face. 
But  I  forget  myself.  I  am  rambling  in  all 
directions  when  I  ought  to  be  telling  a  consecu- 

65 


The  Circular  Study 

tive  tale.  Not  my  usual  habit,  sir ;  this  you  know ; 
but  I  am  not  quite  myself  at  this  moment.  I  de 
clare  I  am  more  upset  by  this  discovery  of  my 
indiscretion  than  I  was  by  Mr.  Trohm's  declara 
tion  of  affection  in  Lost  Man's  Lane!  Give  me 
time,  Mr.  Gryce ;  in  a  few  minutes  I  will  be  more 
coherent." 

"  I  am  giving  you  time,"  he  returned  with  one 
of  his  lowest  bows.  "  The  half-dozen  questions  I 
long  to  ask  have  not  yet  left  my  lips,  and  I  sit 
here,  as  you  must  yourself  acknowledge,  a  monu 
ment  of  patience." 

"  So  you  thought  this  deed  perpetrated  by  an 
outsider,"  she  suddenly  broke  in.  "  Most  of  the 
journals — I  read  them  very  carefully  this  morning 
— ascribed  the  crime  to  the  man  you  have  men 
tioned.  And  there  seems  to  be  good  reason  for 
doing  so.  The  case  is  not  a  simple  one,  Mr. 
Gryce;  it  has  complications — I  recognized  that  at 
once,  and  that  is  why — but  I  won't  waste  another 
moment  in  apologies.  You  have  a  right  to  any 
little  fact  I  may  have  picked  up  in  my  unfortunate 
visit,  and  there  is  one  which  I  failed  to  find  included 
in  any  account  of  the  murder.  Mr.  Adams  had 
other  visitors  besides  myself  in  those  few  fatal 

minutes  preceding  his  death.      A  young  man  and 

66 


Suggestions  From  an   Old  Friend 

woman  were  with  him.  I  saw  them  come  out  of 
the  house.  It  was  at  the  moment  I  was  pass 
ing " 

"  Tell  your  story  more  simply,  Miss  Butter- 
worth.  What  first  drew  your  attention  to  the 
house?" 

"There!  That  is  the  second  time  you  have 
had  to  remind  me  to  be  more  direct.  You  will 
not  have  to  do  so  again,  Mr,  Gryce.  To  begin, 
then,  I  noticed  the  house,  because  I  always  notice 
it.  I  never  pass  it  without  giving  a  thought  to  its 
ancient  history  and  indulging  in  more  or  less  spec 
ulation  as  to  its  present  inmates.  When,  there 
fore,  I  found  myself  in  front  of  it  yesterday  after 
noon  on  my  way  to  the  art  exhibition,  I  naturally 
looked  up,  and — whether  by  an  act  of  providence 
or  not,  I  cannot  say — it  was  precisely  at  that  in 
stant  the  inner  door  of  the  vestibule  burst  open, 
and  a  young  man  appeared  in  the  hall,  carrying  a 
young  woman  in  his  arms.  He  seemed  to  be  in 
a  state  of  intense  excitement,  and  she  in  a  dead 
faint ;  but  before  they  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  crowd,  he  had  placed  her  on  her  feet,  and, 
taking  her  on  his  arm,  dragged  her  down  the  stoop 
and  into  the  crowd  of  passers-by,  among  whom  they 

presently  disappeared.      I,  as  you  may  believe,  stood 
s  67 


The  Circular  Study 

rooted  to  the  ground  in  my  astonishment,  and  not 
only  endeavored  to  see  in  what  direction  they 
went,  but  lingered  long  enough  to  take  a  peep  into 
the  time-honored  interior  of  this  old  house,  which 
had  been  left  open  to  view  by  the  young  man's  for 
getting  to  close  the  front  door  behind  him.  As  I 
did  so,  I  heard  a  cry  from  within.  It  was  muffled 
and  remote,  but  unmistakably  one  of  terror  and 
anguish :  and,  led  by  an  impulse  I  may  live  to  re 
gret,  as  it  seems  likely  to  plunge  me  into  much 
unpleasantness,  I  rushed  up  the  stoop  and  went 
in,  shutting  the  door  behind  me,  lest  others  should 
be  induced  to  follow. 

"  So  far,  I  had  acted  solely  from  instinct ;  but 
once  in  that  semi -dark  hall,  I  paused  and  asked 
what  business  I  had  there,  and  what  excuse  I 
should  give  for  my  intrusion  if  I  encountered  one 
or  more  of  the  occupants  of  the  house.  But  a 
repetition  of  the  cry,  coming  as  I  am  ready  to 
swear  from  the  farthest  room  on  the  parlor  floor, 
together  with  a  sharp  remembrance  of  the  wander 
ing  eye  and  drawn  countenance  of  the  young  man 
whom  I  had  seen  stagger  hence  a  moment  before, 
with  an  almost  fainting  woman  in  his  arms,  drew 
me  on  in  spite  of  my  feminine  instincts ;  and  be 
fore  I  knew  it,  I  was  in  the  circular  study  and  be- 

63 


Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

fore  the  prostrate  form  of  a  seemingly  dying  man. 
He  was  lying  as  you  probably  found  him  a  little 
later,  with  the  cross  on  his  breast  and  a  dagger  in 
his  heart;  but  his  right  hand  was  trembling,  and 
when  I  stooped  to  lift  his  head,  he  gave  a  shud 
der  and  then  settled  into  eternal  stillness.  I,  a 
stranger  from  the  street,  had  witnessed  his  last 
breath  while  the  young  man  who  had  gone  out " 

"  Can  you  describe  him  ?  Did  you  encounter 
him  close  enough  for  recognition?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  would  know  him  again.  I  can 
at  least  describe  his  appearance.  He  wore  a 
checked  suit,  very  natty,  and  was  more  than  usu 
ally  tall  and  fine- looking.  But  his  chief  peculiar 
ity  lay  in  his  expression,  I  never  saw  on  any 
face,  no,  not  on  the  stage,  at  the  climax  of  the 
most  heart-rending  tragedy,  a  greater  accumula 
tion  of  mortal  passion  struggling  with  the  impera 
tive  necessity  for  restraint.  The  young  girl  whose 
blond  head  lay  on  his  shoulder  looked  like  a  saint 
in  the  clutch  of  a  demon.  She  had  seen  death, 
but  he —  But  I  prefer  not  to  be  the  interpreter 
of  that  expressive  countenance.  It  was  lost  to  my 
view  almost  immediately,  and  probably  calmed  it 
self  in  the  face  of  the  throng  he  entered,  or  we 
would  be  hearing  about  him  to-day.  The  girl 

69 


The  Circular  Study 

/ 

seemed  to  be   devoid   of   almost   all   feeling.     I 

should  not  remember  her." 

"And  was  that  all?  Did  you  just  look  at  that 
recumbent  man  and  vanish?  Didn't  you  en 
counter  the  butler?  Haven't  you  some  definite 
knowledge  to  impart  in  his  regard  which  will  set 
tle  his  innocence  or  fix  his  guilt?  " 

"  I  know  no  more  about  him  than  you  do,  sir, 
except  that  he  was  not  in  the  room  by  the  time  I 
reached  it,  and  did  not  come  into  it  during  my 
presence  there.  Yet  it  was  his  cry  that  led  me  to 
the  spot ;  or  do  you  think  it  was  that  of  the  bird  I 
afterward  heard  shouting  and  screaming  in  the 
cage  over  the  dead  man's  head  ?  " 

"  It  might  have  been  the  bird,"  admitted  Mr. 
Gryce.  "  Its  call  is  very  clear,  and  it  seems 
strangely  intelligent.  What  was  it  saying  while 
you  stood  there  ?  " 

"  Something  about  Eva.  '  Lovely  Eva,  mad 
dening  Eva !  I  love  Eva !  Eva !  Eva ! ' ' 

"  Eva?     Wasn't  it  '  Evelyn  ?     Poor  Evelyn ? '  " 

"  No,  it  was  Eva.  I  thought  he  might  mean 
the  girl  I  had  just  seen  carried  out.  It  was  an 
unpleasant  experience,  hearing  this  bird  shriek  out 
these  cries  in  the  face  of  the  man  lying  dead  at 

my  feet. " 

70 


Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

"  Miss  Butterworth,  you  didn't  simply  stand 
over  that  man.  You  knelt  down  and  looked  in 
his  face." 

"  I  acknowledge  it,  and  caught  my  dress  in  the 
filagree  of  the  cross.  Naturally  I  would  not  stand 
stock  still  with  a  man  drawing  his  last  breath  un 
der  my  eye." 

"  And  what  else  did  you  do?  You  went  to  the 
table -" 

"Yes,  I  went  to  the  table." 

"  And  moved  the  inkstand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  moved  the  inkstand,  but  very  carefully, 
sir,  very  carefully." 

"  Not  so  carefully  but  that  I  could  see  where  it 
had  been  sitting  before  you  took  it  up :  the  square 
made  by  its  base  in  the  dust  of  the  table  did  not 
coincide  with  the  place  afterwards  occupied  by  it. " 

"Ah,  that  comes  from  your  having  on  your 
glasses  and  I  not.  I  endeavored  to  set  it  down  in 
the  precise  place  from  which  I  lifted  it. " 

"  Why  did  you  take  it  up  at  all  ?  What  were 
you  looking  for  ?  " 

"  For  clews,  Mr.  Gryce.  You  must  forgive  me, 
but  I  was  seeking  for  clews.  I  moved  several 
things.  I  was  hunting  for  the  line  of  writing 
which  ought  to  explain  this  murder." 


The  Circular  Study 

"The  line  of  writing?" 

"  Yes.  I  have  not  told  you  what  the  young  girl 
said  as  she  slipped  with  her  companion  into  the 
crowd." 

"  No ;  you  have  spoken  of  no  words.  Have  you 
any  such  clew  as  that  ?  Miss  Butte'rworth,  you  are 
fortunate,  very  fortunate. " 

Mr.  Gryce's  look  and  gesture  were  eloquent,  but 
Miss  Butterworth,  with  an  access  of  dignity,  quiet 
ly  remarked : 

"  I  was  not  to  blame  for  being  in  the  way  when 
they  passed,  nor  could  I  help  hearing  what  she 
said." 

"  And  what  was  it,  madam  ?  Did  she  mention 
a  paper  ? " 

"  "  Yes,  she  cried  in  what  I  now  remember  to 
have  been  a  tone  of  affright :  '  You  have  left  that 
line  of  writing  behind !  '  I  did  not  attach  much 
importance  to  these  words  then,  but  when  I  came 
upon  the  dying  man,  so  evidently  the  victim  of 
murder,  I  recalled  what  his  late  visitor  had  said 
and  looked  about  for  this  piece  of  writing." 

"  And  did  you  find  it,  Miss  Butterworth  ?  I  am 
ready,  as  you  see,  for  any  revelation  you  may  now 
make." 

"  For  one  which  would  reflect  dishonor  on  me  ? 

72 


Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

If  I  had  found  any  paper  explaining  this  tragedy, 
I  should  have  felt  bound  to  have  called  the  atten 
tion  of  the  police  to  it.  I  did  notify  them  of  the 
crime  itself." 

"  Yes,  madam ;  and  we  are  obliged  to  you ;  but 
how  about  your  silence  in  regard  to  the  fact  of  two 
persons  having  left  that  house  immediately  upon, 
or  just  preceding,  the  death  of  its  master? " 

"  I  reserved  that  bit  of  information.  I  waited 
to  see  if  the  police  would  not  get  wind  of  these 
people  without  my  help.  I  sincerely  wished  to 
keep  my  name  out  of  this  inquiry.  Yet  I  feel  a 
decided  relief  now  that  I  have  made  my  confes 
sion.  I  never  could  have  rested  properly  after  see 
ing  so  much,  and " 

"Well?" 

"  Thinking  my  own  thoughts  in  regard  to  what 
I  saw,  if  I  had  found  myself  compelled  to  bridle 
my  tongue  while  false  scents  were  being  followed 
and  delicate  clews  overlooked  or  discarded  without 
proper  attention.  I  regard  this  murder  as  offering 
the  most  difficult  problem  that  has  ever  come  in 
my  way,  and,  therefore " 

"Yes,  madam." 

"  I  cannot  but  wonder  if  an  opportunity  has  been 
afforded  me  for  retrieving  myself  in  your  eyes.  I 

73 


The  Circular  Study 

do  not  care  for  the  opinion  of  any  one  else  as  to 
my  ability  or  discretion ;  but  I  should  like  to  make 
you  forget  my  last  despicable  failure  in  Lost  Man's 
Lane.  It  is  a  sore  remembrance  to  me,  Mr.  Gryce, 
which  nothing  but  a  fresh  success  can  make  me 
forget." 

"  Madam,  I  understand  you.  You  have  formu 
lated  some  theory.  You  consider  the  young  man 
with  the  tell-tale  face  guilty  of  Mr.  Adams's  death. 
Well,  it  is  very  possible.  I  never  thought  the 
butler  was  rehearsing  a  crime  he  had  himself  com 
mitted." 

"  Do  you  know  who  the  young  man  is  I  saw 
leaving  that  house  so  hurriedly?  " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  You  are  the  first 
to  bring  him  to  my  attention." 

"  And  the  young  girl  with  the  blonde  hair?  " 

"  It  is  the  first  I  have  heard  of  her,  too." 

"  I  did  not  scatter  the  rose  leaves  that  were 
found  on  that  floor. " 

"  No,  it  was  she.  She  probably  wore  a  bouquet 
in  her  belt." 

"  Nor  was  that  frippery  parasol  mine,  though  I 
did  lose  a  good,  stout,  serviceable  one  somewhere 
that  day." 

"  It  was  hers ;  I  have  no  doubt  of  it. " 
74 


Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

"  Left  by  her  in  the  little  room  where  she  was 
whiling  away  the  time  during  which  the  gentlemen 
conversed  together,  possibly  about  that  bit  of  writ 
ing  she  afterward  alluded  to." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Her  mind  was  not  expectant  of  evil,  for  she 
was  smoothing  her  hair  when  the  shock  came " 

"Yes,  madam,  I  follow  you." 

"And  had  to  be  carried  out  of  the  place  af 
ter " 

"What?" 

"She  had  placed  that  cross  on  Mr.  Adams's 
breast.  That  was  a  woman's  act,  Mr.  Gryce." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  The  placing  t)f 
that  cross  on  a  layman's  breast  was  a  mystery  to 
me,  and  is  still,  I  must  own.  Great  remorse  or 
great  fright  only  can  account  for  it." 

"  You  will  find  many  mysteries  in  this  case,  Mr. 
Gryce." 

"As  great  a  number  as  I  ever  encountered." 

"  I  have  to  add  one. " 

"Another?" 

"  It  concerns  the  old  butler. " 

"I  thought  you  did  not  see  him." 

"I  did  not  see  him  in  the  room  where  Mr. 
Adams  lay." 

75 


The   Circular   Study 

"Ah!     Where,  then?" 

"  Upstairs.  My  interest  was  not  confined  to 
the  scene  of  the  murder.  Wishing  to  spread  the 
alarm,  and  not  being  able  to  rouse  any  one  below, 
I  crept  upstairs,  and  so  came  upon  this  poor 
wretch  going  through  the  significant  pantomine 
that  has  been  so  vividly  described  in  the  papers." 

"Ah!  Unpleasant  for  you,  very.  I  imagine 
you  did  not  stop  to  talk  to  him." 

"  No,  I  fled.  I  was  extremely  shaken  up  by  this 
time  and  knew  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  was 
to  escape.  But  I  carried  one  as  yet  unsolved 
enigma  with  me.  How  came  I  to  hear  this  man's 
cries  in  Mr.  Adams's  study,  and  yet  find  him  on  the 
second  floor  when  I  came  to  search  the  house  ?  He 
had  not  time  to  mount  the  stairs  while  I  was  pass 
ing  down  the  hall. " 

"  It  is  a  case  of  mistaken  impression.  Your  ears 
played  you  false.  The  cries  came  from  above,  not 
from  Mr.  Adams's  study." 

"  My  ears  are  not  accustomed  to  play  me  tricks. 
You  must  seek  another  explanation." 

"  I  have  ransacked  the  house ;  there  are  no  back 
stairs." 

"  If  there  were,  the  study  does  not  communicate 

with  them." 

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Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

"  And  you  heard  his  voice  in  the  study  ? " 

"  Plainly." 

"  Well,  you  have  given  me  a  poser,  madam. " 

"  And  I  will  give  you  another.  If  he  was  the 
perpetrator  of  this  crime,  how  comes  it  that  he  was 
not  detected  and  denounced  by  the  young  people 
I  saw  going  out?  If,  on  the  contrary,  he  was 
simply  the  witness  of  another  man's  blow — a  blow 
which  horrified  him  so  much  that  it  unseated  his 
reason — how  comes  it  that  he  was  able  to  slide 
away  from  the  door  where  he  must  have  stood 
without  attracting  the  attention  and  bringing  down 
upon  himself  the  vengeance  of  the  guilty  mur 
derer?" 

"  He  may  be  one  of  the  noiseless  kind,  or, 
rather,  may  have  been  such  before  this  shock  un 
settled  his  mind. " 

"  True,  but  he  would  have  been  seen.  Recall 
the  position  of  the  doorway.  If  Mr.  Adams  fell 
where  he  was  struck,  the  assailant  must  have  had 
that  door  directly  before  him.  He  could  not  have 
helped  seeing  any  one  standing  in  it." 

"That  is  true;  your  observations  are  quite  cor 
rect.  But  those  young  people  were  in  a  disordered 
state  of  mind.  The  condition  in  which  they  issued 
from  the  house  proves  this.  They  probably  did  not 

77 


The  Circular  Study 

trouble  themselves  about  this  man.     Escape  was 
all  they  sought.     And,  you  see,  they  did  escape." 

"  But  you  will  find  them.  A  man  who  can  lo 
cate  a  woman  in  this  great  city  of  ours  with  no 
other  clew  than  five  spangles,  dropped  from  her 
gown,  will  certainly  make  this  parasol  tell  the 
name  of  its  owner. " 

"  Ah,  madam,  the  credit  of  this  feat  is  not  due 
to  me.  It  was  the  initial  stroke  of  a  young  man 
I  propose  to  adopt  into  my  home  and  heart ;  the 
same  who  brought  you  here  to-night.  Not  much 
to  look  at,  madam,  but  promising,  very  promising. 
But  I  doubt  if  even  he  can  discover  the  young  lady 
you  mean,  with  no  other  aid  than  is  given  by  this 
parasol.  New  York  is  a  big  place,  ma'am,  a  big 
place.  Do  you  know  how  Sweetwater  came  to 
find  you  ?  Through  your  virtues,  ma'am ;  through 
your  neat  and  methodical  habits.  Had  you  been 
of  a  careless  turn  of  mind  and  not  given  to  mend 
ing  your  dresses  when  you  tore  them,  he  might 
have  worn  his  heart  out  in  a  vain  search  for  the 
lady  who  had  dropped  the  five  spangles  in  Mr. 
Adams's  study.  Now  luck,  or,  rather,  your  own 
commendable  habit,  was  in  his  favor  this  time; 
but  in  the  prospective  search  you  mentioned,  he 
will  probably  have  no  such  assistance." 

78 


Suggestions  From  an   Old   Friend 

"  Nor  will  he  need  it.  I  have  unbounded  faith 
in  your  genius,  which,  after  all,  is  back  of  the 
skilfulness  of  this  new  pupil  of  yours.  You  will 
discover  by  some  means  the  lady  with  the  dove- 
colored  plumes,  and  through  her  the  young  gentle 
man  who  accompanied  her." 

"We  shall  at  least  put  our  energies  to  work 
in  that  direction.  Sweetwater  may  have  an 
idea " 

"And  I  may  have  one." 

"You?" 

"  Yes ;  I  indulged  in  but  little  sleep  last  night. 
That  dreadful  room  with  its  unsolved  mystery  was 
ever  before  me.  Thoughts  would  come ;  possibili 
ties  would  suggest  themselves.  I  imagined  myself 
probing  its  secrets  to  the  bottom  and — 

"  Wait,  madam ;  how  many  of  its  so-called  se 
crets  do  you  know  ?  You  said  nothing  about  the 
lantern." 

"  It  was  burning  with  a  red  light  when  I  en 
tered." 

"  You  did  not  touch  the  buttons  arranged  along 
the  table  top  ?  " 

"  No ;  if  there  is  one  thing  I  do  not  touch,  it  is 
anything  which  suggests  an  electrical  contrivance. 
I  am  intensely  feminine,  sir,  in  all  my  instincts, 

79 


The  Circular  Study 

and  mechanisms  of  any  kind  alarm  me.  To  all 
such  things  I  give  a  wide  berth.  I  have  not  even 
a  telephone  in  my  house.  Some  allowance  must 
be  made  for  the  natural  timidity  of  woman." 

Mr.  Gryce  suppressed  a  smile.  "  It  is  a  pity," 
he  remarked.  "  Had  you  brought  another  light 
upon  the  scene,  you  might  have  been  blessed  with 
an  idea  on  a  subject  that  is  as  puzzling  as  any 
connected  with  the  whole  affair." 

"  You  have  not  heard  what  I  have  to  say  on  a 
still  more  important  matter,"  said  she.  "When 
we  have  exhausted  the  one  topic,  we  may  both  feel 
like  turning  on  the  fresh  lights  you  speak  of. 
Mr.  Gryce,  on  what  does  this  mystery  hinge?  On 
the  bit  of  writing  which  these  young  people  were 
so  alarmed  at  having  left  behind  them." 

"  Ah !  It  is  from  that  you  would  work  !  Well, 
it  is  a  good  point  to  start  from.  But  we  have 
found  no  such  bit  of  writing." 

"  Have  you  searched  for  it  ?  You  did  not  know 
till  now  that  any  importance  might  be  attached 
to  a  morsel  of  paper  with  some  half-dozen  words 
written  on  it." 

"True,  but  a  detective  searches  just  the  same. 
We  ransacked  that  room  as  few  rooms  have  been 

ransacked  in  years.     Not  for  a  known  clew,  but 

80 


Suggestions  From  an  Old  Friend 

for  an  unknown  one.  It  seemed  necessary  in  the 
first  place  to  learn  who  this  man  was.  His  papers 
were  consequently  examined.  But  they  told  noth 
ing.  If  there  had  been  a  scrap  of  writing  within 
view  or  in  his  desk " 

"  It  was  not  on  his  person  ?  You  had  his  pock 
ets  searched,  his  clothes " 

"  A  man  who  has  died  from  violence  is  always 
searched,  madam.  I  leave  no  stone  unturned  in  a 
mysterious  case  like  this." 

Miss  Butterworth's  face  assumed  an  indefinable 
expression  of  satisfaction,  which  did  not  escape 
Mr.  Gryce's  eye,  though  that  member  was  fixed, 
according  to  his  old  habit,  on  the  miniature  of  her 
father  which  she  wore,  in  defiance  of  fashion,  at 
her  throat. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  she,  in  a  musing  tone,  "  if  I 
imagined  or  really  saw  on  Mr.  Adams's  face  a 
most  extraordinary  expression;  something  more 
than  the  surprise  or  anguish  following  a  mortal 
blow?  A  look  of  determination,  arguing  some 
superhuman  resolve  taken  at  the  moment  of  death, 

or can  you  read  that  face  for  me?  Or  did 

you  fail  to  perceive  aught  of  what  I  say?  It 
would  really  be  an  aid  to  me  at  this  moment  to 

know." 

ft! 


The  Circular  Study 

"  I  noted  that  look.  It  was  not  a  common  one 
But  I  cannot  read  it  for  you " 

"  I  wonder  if  the  young  man  you  call  Sweet- 
water  can.  I  certainly  think  it  has  a  decided 
bearing  on  this  mystery ;  such  a  fold  to  the  lips, 
such  a  look  of  mingled  grief  and — what  was  that 
you  said  ?  Sweetwater  has  not  been  admitted  to 
the  room  of  death?  Well,  well,  I  shall  have  to 
make  my  own  suggestion,  then.  I  shall  have  to 
part  with  an  idea  that  may  be  totally  valueless, 
but  which  has  impressed  me  so  that  it  must  out, 
if  I  am  to  have  any  peace  to-night.  Mr.  Gryce, 
allow  me  to  whisper  in  your  ear.  Some  things  lose 
force  when  spoken  aloud." 

And  leaning  forward,  she  breathed  a  short  sen 
tence  into  his  ear  which  made  him  start  and  re 
gard  her  with  an  amazement  which  rapidly  grew 
into  admiration. 

"  Madam !  "  he  cried,  rising  up  that  he  might  the 
better  honor  her  with  one  of  his  low  bows,  "  your 
idea,  whether  valueless  or  not,  is  one  which  is 
worthy  of  the  acute  lady  who  proffers  it.  We  will 
act  on  it,  ma'am,  act  at  once.  Wait  till  I  have 
given  my  orders.  I  will  not  keep  you  long." 

And  with  another  bow,  he  left  the  room. 


82 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AMOS'S    SON. 

Miss  BUTTERWORTH  had  been  brought  up  in  a 
strict  school  of  manners.  When  she  sat,  she  sat 
still ;  when  she  moved,  she  moved  quickly,  firmly, 
but  with  no  unnecessary  disturbance.  Fidgets 
were  unknown  to  her.  Yet  when  she  found  her 
self  alone  after  this  interview,  it  was  with  difficulty 
she  could  restrain  herself  from  indulging  in  some 
of  those  outward  manifestations  of  uneasiness 
which  she  had  all  her  life  reprobated  in  the  more 
nervous  members  of  her  own  sex.  She  was  anx 
ious,  and  she  showed  it,  like  the  sensible  wom 
an  she  was,  and  was  glad  enough  when  Mr.  Gryce 
finally  returned  and,  accosting  her  with  a  smile, 
said  almost  gayly : 

"  Well,  that  is  seen  to !  And  all  we  have  to 
do  now  is  to  await  the  result.  Madam,  have  you 
any  further  ideas  ?  If  so,  I  should  be  glad  to  have 
the  benefit  of  them." 

Her  self-possession  was  at  once  restored. 

"You  would?"  she  repeated,  eying  him  some- 
6  83 


The  Circular   Study 

what  doubtfully.  "  I  should  like  to  be  assured  of 
the  value  of  the  one  I  have  already  advanced,  be 
fore  I  venture  upon  another.  Let  us  enter  into  a 
conference  instead;  compare  notes;  tell,  for  in 
stance,  why  neither  of  us  look  on  Bartow  as  the 
guilty  man." 

"  I  thought  we  had  exhausted  that  topic.  Your 
suspicions  were  aroused  by  the  young  couple  you 
saw  leaving  the  house,  while  mine — well,  madam, 
to  you,  at  least,  I  may  admit  that  there  is  some 
thing  in  the  mute's  gestures  and  general  manner 
which  conveys  to  my  mind  the  impression  that  he 
is  engaged  in  rehearsing  something  he  has  seen, 
rather  than  something  he  has  done;  and  as  yet  I 
have  seen  no  reason  for  doubting  the  truth  of  this 
impression." 

"  I  was  affected  in  the  same  way,  and  would  have 
been,  even  if  I  had  not  already  had  my  suspicions 
turned  in  another  direction.  Besides,  it  is  more 
natural  for  a  man  to  be  driven  insane  by  another's 
act  than  by  his  own." 

"  Yes,  if  he  loved  the  victim." 

"  And  did  not  Bartow?  " 

"  He  does  not  mourn  Mr.  Adams. " 

"  But  he  is  no  longer  master  of  his  emotions." 

"  Very  true ;  but  if  we  take  any  of  his  actions 


Amos's  Son 

as  a  clew  to  the  situation,  we  must  take  all.  We 
believe  from  his  gestures  that  he  is  giving  us  a 
literal  copy  of  acts  he  has  seen  performed.  Then, 
why  pass  over  the  gleam  of  infernal  joy  that  lights 
his  face  after  the  whole  is  over  ?  It  is  as  if  he  re 
joiced  over  the  deed,  or  at  least  found  immeasur 
able  satisfaction  in  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  still  a  copy  of  what  he  saw;  the 
murderer  may  have  rejoiced.  But  no,  there  was 
no  joy  in  the  face  of  the  young  man  I  saw  rushing 
away  from  this  scene  of  violence.  Quite  the  con 
trary.  Mr.  Gryce,  we  are  in  deep  waters.  I  feel 
myself  wellnigh  submerged  by  them." 

"  Hold  up  your  head,  madam.  Every  flood  has 
its  ebb.  If  you  allow  yourself  to  go  under,  what 
will  become  of  me?  " 

"  You  are  disposed  to  humor,  Mr.  Gryce.  It  is 
a  good  sign.  You  are  never  humorous  when  per 
plexed.  Somewhere  you  must  see  daylight." 

"  Let  us  proceed  with  our  argument.  Illumina 
tion  frequently  comes  from  the  most  unexpected 
quarter." 

"Very  well,  then,  let  us  put  the  old  man's  joy 
down  as  one  of  the  mysteries  to  be  explained  later. 
Have  you  thought  of  him  as  a  possible  accom 
plice?  " 

85 


The  Circular  Study 

"Certainly;  but  this  supposition  is  open  to  the 
same  objection  as  that  which  made  him  the  motive 
power  in  this  murder.  One  is  not  driven  insane 
by  an  expected  horror.  It  takes  shock  to  unsettle 
the  brain.  He  was  not  looking  for  the  death  of 
his  master." 

"  True.  We  may  consider  that  matter  as  settled. 
Bartow  was  an  innocent  witness  of  this  crime,  and, 
having  nothing  to  fear,  may  be  trusted  to  reproduce 
in  his  pantomimic  action  its  exact  features. " 

"  Very  good.  Continue,  madam.  Nothing  but 
profit  is  likely  to  follow  an  argument  presented  by 
Miss  Butterworth. " 

The  old  detective's  tone  was  serious,  his  manner 
perfect ;  but  Miss  Butterworth,  ever  on  the  look 
out  for  sarcasm  from  his  lips,  bridled  a  little, 
though  in  no  other  way  did  she  show  her  displeas 
ure. 

"  Let  us,  then,  recall  his  precise  gestures,  re 
membering  that  he  must  have  surprised  the  assail 
ant  from  the  study  doorway,  and  so  have  seen  the 
assault  from  over  his  master's  shoulder." 

"  In  other  words,  directly  in  front  of  him.  Now 
what  was  his  first  move  ? " 

"His  first  move,  as  now  seen,  is  to  raise  his 

right  arm  and  stretch  it  behind  him,  while   he 

86 


Amos's  Son 

leans  forward   for  the   imaginary  dagger.     What 
does  that  mean?  " 

"  I  should  find  it  hard  to  say.  But  I  did  not  see 
him  do  that.  When  I  came  upon  him,  he  was 
thrusting  with  his  left  hand  across  his  own  body — 
a  vicious  thrust  and  with  his  left  hand.  That  is  a 
point,  Mr.  Gryce." 

"  Yes,  especially  as  the  doctors  agree  that  Mr. 
Adams  was  killed  by  a  left-handed  blow." 

"  You  don't  say !  Don't  you  see  the  difficulty, 
then?" 

"The  difficulty,  madam?" 

"  Bartow  was  standing  face  to  face  with  the  as 
sailant.  In  imitating  him,  especially  in  his  un 
reasoning  state  of  mind,  he  would  lift  the  arm  op 
posite  to  the  one  whose  action  he  mimics,  which,  in 
this  case,  would  be  the  assailant's  right.  Try,  for 
the  moment,  to  mimic  my  actions.  See !  I  lift 
this  hand,  and  instinctively  (nay,  I  detected  the 
movement,  sir,  quickly  as  you  remembered  your 
self),  you  raise  the  one  directly  opposite  to  it.  It 
is  like  seeing  yourself  in  a  mirror.  You  turn  your 
head  to  the  right,  but  your  image  turns  to  the 
left." 

Mr.  Gryce's  laugh  rang  out  in  spite  of  himself. 
He  was  not  often  caught  napping,  but  this  woman 


The  Circular  Study 

exercised  a  species  of  fascination  upon  him  at  times, 
and  it  rather  amused  than  offended  him,  when  he 
was  obliged  to  acknowledge  himself  defeated. 

"  Very  good !  You  have  proved  your  point  quite 
satisfactorily ;  but  what  conclusions  are  to  be  drawn 
from  it  ?  That  the  man  was  not  left-handed,  or 
that  he  was  not  standing  in  the  place  you  have 
assigned  to  him  ?  " 

"  Shall  we  go  against  the  doctors  ?  They  say 
that  the  blow  was  a  left-handed  one.  Mr.  Gryce,  I 
would  give  anything  for  an  hour  spent  with  you  in 
Mr.  Adams's  study,  with  Bartow  free  to  move  about 
at  his  will.  I  think  we  would  learn  more  by  watch 
ing  him  for  a  short  space  of  time  than  in  talking 
as  we  are  doing  for  an  hour." 

It  was  said  tentatively,  almost  timidly.  Miss 
Butterworth  had  some  sense  of  the  temerity  in 
volved  in  this  suggestion  even  if,  according  to  her 
own  declaration,  she  had  no  curiosity.  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  disagreeable,"  she  smiled. 

She  was  so  far  from  being  so  that  Mr.  Gryce 
was  taken  unawares,  and  for  once  in  his  life  be 
came  impulsive. 

"I  think  it  can  be  managed,  madam;  that  is, 
after  the  funeral.  There  are  too  many  officials 

now  in  the  house,  and 

88 


Amos's  Son 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  she  acceded.  "  I  should 
not  think  of  obtruding  myself  at  present.  But 
the  case  is  so  interesting,  and  my  connection  with 
it  so  peculiar,  that  I  sometimes  forget  myself.  Do 
you  think  " —  here  she  became  quite  nervous  for 
one  of  her  marked  self-control — "  that  I  have  laid 
myself  open  to  a  summons  from  the  coroner?  " 

Mr.  Gryce  grew  thoughtful,  eyed  the  good  lady, 
or  rather  her  folded  hands,  with  an  air  of  some 
compassion,  and  finally  replied : 

"  The  facts  regarding  this  affair  come  in  so  slowly 
that  I  doubt  if  the  inquest  is  held  for  several  days. 
Meanwhile  we  may  light  on  those  two  young  peo 
ple  ourselves.  If  so,  the  coroner  may  overlook 
your  share  in  bringing  them  to  our  notice.*' 

There  was  a  sly  emphasis  on  the  word,  and  a 
subtle  humor  in  his  look  that  showed  the  old  de 
tective  at  his  worst.  But  Miss  Butterworth  did 
not  resent  it ;  she  was  too  full  of  a  fresh  confession 
she  had  to  make. 

"  Ah,"  said  she,  "  if  they  had  been  the  only  per 
sons  I  encountered  there.  But  they  were  not. 
Another  person  entered  the  house  before  I  left  it, 
and  I  may  be  obliged  to  speak  of  him." 

"Of  him?  Really,  madam,  you  area  mine  of 
intelligence." 


The   Circular  Study 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  meek  reply;  meek,  when 
you  consider  from  whose  lips  it  came.  "  I  ought 
to  have  spoken  of  him  before,  but  I  never  like  to 
mix  matters,  and  this  old  gentleman " 

"  Old  gentleman !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  very  old  and  very  much  of  a  gentle 
man,  did  not  appear  to  have  any  connection  with 
the  crime  beyond  knowing  the  murdered  man. " 

"Ah,  but  that's  a  big  connection,  ma'am.  To 
find  some  one  who  knew  Mr.  Adams — really, 
madam,  patience  has  its  limits,  and  I  must  press 
you  to  speak." 

"  Oh,  I  will  speak !  The  time  has  come  for  it. 
Besides,  I'm  quite  ready  to  discuss  this  new 
theme;  it  is  very  interesting." 

"  Suppose  we  begin,  then,  by  a  detailed  account 
of  your  adventures  in  this  house  of  death,"  dryly 
suggested  the  detective.  "  Your  full  adventures, 
madam,  with  nothing  left  out." 

"  I  appreciate  the  sarcasm,  but  nothing  has  been 
left  out  except  what  I  am  about  to  relate  to  you. 
It  happened  just  as  I  was  leaving  the  house." 

"  What  did  ?  I  hate  to  ask  you  to  be  more  ex 
plicit.  But,  in  the  interests  of  justice— 

"  You  are  quite  right.     As   I   was  going  out, 

then,  I  encountered  an  elderly  gentleman  coming 

90 


Amos's  Son 

in.  His  hand  had  just  touched  the  bell  handle. 
You  will  acknowledge  that  it  was  a  perplexing 
moment  for  me.  His  face,  which  was  well  pre 
served  for  his  years,  wore  an  air  of  expectation 
that  was  almost  gay.  He  glanced  in  astonishment 
at  mine,  which,  whatever  its  usual  serenity,  cer 
tainly  must  have  borne  marks  of  deep  emotion. 
Neither  of  us  spoke.  At  last  he  inquired  politely 
if  he  might  enter,  and  said  something  about  hav 
ing  an  appointment  with  some  one  in  the  study. 
At  which  I  stepped  briskly  enough  aside,  I  asr 
sure  you,  for  this  might  mean —  What  did  you 
say?  Did  I  close  the  door  ?  I  assuredly  did.  Was 

I  to  let  the  whole  of Street  into  the  horrors 

of  this  house  at  a  moment  when  a  poor  old  man — 
No,  I  didn't  go  out  myself.  Why  should  I? 
Was  I  to  leave  a  man  on  the  verge  of  eighty — 
excuse  me,  not  every  man  of  eighty  is  so  hale  and 
vigorous  as  yourself — to  enter  such  a  scene  alone  ? 
Besides,  I  had  not  warned  him  of  the  condition  of 
the  only  other  living  occupant- of  the  house." 

"  Discreet,  very.  Quite  what  was  to  be  expected 
of  you,  Miss  Butterworth.  More  than  that.  You 
followed  him,  no  doubt,  with  careful  supervision, 
down  the  hall. " 

"  Most  certainly !  What  would  you  have  thought 
91 


The  Circular  Study 

of  me  if  I  had  not  ?  He  was  in  a  strange  house ; 
there  was  no  servant  to  guide  him,  he  wanted  to 
know  the  way  to  the  study,  and  I  politely  showed 
him  there." 

"Kind  of  you,  madam, — very.  It  must  have 
been  an  interesting  moment  to  you." 

"Very  interesting!  Too  interesting!  I  own 
that  I  am  not  made  entirely  of  steel,  sir,  and 
the  shock  he  received  at  finding  a  dead  man 
awaiting  him,  instead  of  a  live  one,  was  more  or 
less  communicated  to  me.  Yet  I  stood  my 
ground." 

"Admirable!  I  could  have  done  no  better 
myself.  And  so  this  man  who  had  an  appoint 
ment  with  Mr.  Adams  was  shocked,  really 
shocked,  at  rinding  him  lying  there  under  a  cross, 
dead?" 

"Yes,  there  was  no  doubting  that.  Shocked, 
surprised,  terrified,  and  something  more.  It  is 
that  something  more  which  has  proved  my  per 
plexity.  I  cannot  make  it  out,  not  even  in  think 
ing  it  over.  Was  it  the  fascination  which  all  hor 
rible  sights  exert  on  the  morbid,  or  was  it  a  sudden 
realization  of  some  danger  he  had  escaped,  or  of 
some  difficulty  yet  awaiting  him  ?  Hard  to  say, 

Mr.  Gryce,  hard  to  say ;  but  you  may  take  my  word 

92 


Amos's  Son 

for  it  that  there  was  more  to  him  in  this  meeting 
than  an  unexpected  stumbling  upon  a  dead  man 
where  he  expected  to  find  a  live  one.  Yet  he 
made  no  sound  after  that  first  cry,  and  hardly  any 
movement.  He  just  stared  at  the  figure  on  the 
floor;  then  at  his  face,  which  he  seemed  to  de 
vour,  at  first  with  curiosity,  then  with  hate,  then 
with  terror,  and  lastly — how  can  I  express  my 
self? — with  a  sort  of  hellish  humor  that  in  an 
other  moment  might  have  broken  into  something 
like  a  laugh,  if  the  bird,  which  I  had  failed  to  ob 
serve  up  to  this  moment,  had  not  waked  in  its  high 
cage,  and,  thrusting  its  beak  between  the  bars, 
shrilled  out  in  the  most  alarming  of  tones :  '  Re 
member  Evelyn ! '  That  startled  the  old  man 
even  more  than  the  sight  on  the  floor  had  done. 
He  turned  round,  and  I  saw  his  fist  rise  as  if 
against  some  menacing  intruder,  but  it  quickly 
fell  again  as  his  eyes  encountered  the  picture 
which  hung  before  him,  and  with  a  cringe  painful 
to  see  in  one  of  his  years,  he  sidled  back  till  he 
reached  the  doorway.  Here  he  paused  a  minute 
to  give  another  look  at  the  man  outstretched  at  his 
feet,  and  I  heard  him  say : 

"  '  It  is  Amos's  son,  not  Amos !     Is  it  fatality, 

or  did  he  plan  this  meeting,  thinking- '     , 

93 


The  Circular  Study 

"  But  here  he  caught  sight  of  my  figure  in  the 
antechamber  beyond,  and  resuming  in  an  instant 
his  former  debonair  manner,  he  bowed  very  low 
and  opened  his  lips  as  if  about  to  ask  a  question. 
But  he  evidently  thought  better  of  it,  for  he  strode 
by  me  and  made  his  way  to  the  front  door  without 
a  word.  Being  an  intruder  myself,  I  did  not  like 
to  stop  him.  But  I  am  sorry  now  for  the  consid 
eration  I  showed  him;  for  just  before  he  stepped 
out,  his  emotion — the  special  character  of  which, 
I  own  to  you,  I  find  impossible  to  understand — cul 
minated  in  a  burst  of  raucous  laughter  which  added 
the  final  horror  to  this  amazing  adventure.  Then 
he  went  out,  and  in  the  last  glimpse  I  had  of  him 
before  the  door  shut  he  wore  the  same  look  of  easy 
self-satisfaction  with  which  he  had  entered  this 
place  of  death  some  fifteen  minutes  before." 

"  Remarkable !  Some  secret  history  there ! 
That  man  must  be  found.  He  can  throw  light 
upon  Mr.  Adams's  past.  '  Amos's  son,'  he  called 
him?  Who  is  Amos?  Mr.  Adams's  name  was 
Felix.  Felix,  the  son  of  Amos.  Perhaps  this 
connection  of  names  may  lead  to  something.  It 
is  not  a  common  one,  and  if  given  to  the  papers, 
may  result  in  our  receiving  a  clew  to  a  mystery 
which  seems  impenetrable.  Your  stay  in  Mr. 

94 


Amos's  Son 

Adams's  house  was  quite  productive,  ma'am.  Did 
you  prolong  it  after  the  departure  of  this  old 
man?" 

"No,  sir,  I  had  had  my  fill  of  the  mysterious, 
and  left  immediately  after  him.  Ashamed  of  the 
spirit  of  investigation  which  had  led  me  to  enter 
the  house,  I  made  a  street  boy  the  medium  of  my 
communication  to  the  police,  and  would  have  been 
glad  if  I  could  have  so  escaped  all  responsibility  in 
the  matter.  But  the  irony  of  fate  follows  me  as 
it  does  others.  A  clew  was  left  of  my  presence, 
which  involves  me  in  this  affair,  whether  I  will  or 
no.  Was  the  hand  of  Providence  in  this?  Per 
haps.  The  future  will  tell.  And  now,  Mr. 
Gryce,  since  my  budget  is  quite  empty  and  the 
hour  late,  I  will  take  my  leave.  If  you  hear  from 
that  bit  of  paper " 

"  If  I  hear  from  it  in  the  way  you  suggest  I  will 
let  you  know.  It  will  be  the  least  I  can  do  for  a 
lady  who  has  done  so  much  for  me. " 

"Now  you  flatter  me — proof  positive  that  I 
have  stayed  a  minute  longer  than  was  judicious. 
Good  evening,  Mr.  Gryce.  What?  I  have  not 
stayed  too  long?  You  have  something  else  to 
ask." 

"  Yes,  and  this  time  it  is  concerning  a  matter 
95 


The  Circular  Study 

personal  to  yourself.  May  I  inquire  if  you  wore 
the  same  bonnet  yesterday  that  you  do  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  know  you  have  a  good  reason  for 
this  question,  and  so  will  not  express  my  surprise. 
Yesterday  I  was  in  reception  costume,  and  my  bon 
net  was  a  jet  one " 

"  With  long  strings  tied  under  the  chin  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  short  strings;  long  strings  are  no 
longer  the  fashion." 

"  But  you  wore  something  which  fell  from  your 
neck?"  ' 

"  Yes,  a  boa — a  feather  boa.  How  came  you 
to  know  it,  sir  ?  Did  I  leave  my  image  in  one  of 
the  mirrors  ?  " 

"  Hardly.  If  so,  I  should  not  have  expected  it 
to  speak.  You  merely  wrote  the  fact  on  the  study 
table  top.  Or  so  I  have  dared  to  think.  You  or 
the  young  lady — did  she  wear  ribbons  or  stream 
ers,  too  ?  " 

"  That  I  cannot  say.  Her  face  was  all  I  saw, 
and  the  skirt  of  a  dove-colored  silk  dress." 

"  Then  you  must  settle  the  question  for  me  in 
this  way.  If  on  the  tips  of  that  boa  of  yours  you 
find  the  faintest  evidence  of  its  having  been  dipped 
in  blood,  I  shall  know  that  the  streaks  found  on 

the  top  of  the  table  I  speak  of  were  evidences  of 

96 


Amos's  Son 

your  presence  there.  But  if  your  boa  is  clean,  or 
was  not  long  enough  to  touch  that  dying  man  as 
you  leaned  over  him,  then  we  have  proof  that  the 
young  lady  with  the  dove-colored  plumes  fingered 
that  table  also,  instead  of  falling  at  once  into  the 
condition  in  which  you  saw  her  carried  out." 

"  I  fear  that  it  is  my  boa  which  will  tell  the  tale : 
another  proof  of  the  fallibility  of  man,  or,  rather, 
woman.  In  secret  search  for  clews  I  left  behind 
me  traces  of  my  own  presence.  I  really  feel 
mortified,  sir,  and  you  have  quite  the  advantage  of 
me." 

And  with  this  show  of  humility,  which  may  not 
have  been  entirely  sincere,  this  estimable  lady  took 
her  departure. 

Did  Mr.  Gryce  suffer  from  any  qualms  of  con 
science  at  having  elicited  so  much  and  imparted  so 
little  ?  I  doubt  it.  Mr.  Gryce's  conscience  was 
quite  seared  in  certain  places. 


97 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

IN  THE  ROUND  OF  THE  STAIRCASE. 

THE  next  morning  Mr.  Gryce  received  a  small 
communication  from  Miss  Butterworth  at  or  near 
the  very  time  she  received  one  from  him.  Hers 
ran: 

You  were  quite  correct.  So  far  as  appears,  I 
was  the  only  person  to  lean  over  Mr.  Adams's 
study  table  after  his  unfortunate  death.  I  have 
had  to  clip  the  ends  of  my  boa. 

His  was  equally  laconic : 

My  compliments,  madam !  Mr.  Adams's  jaws 
have  been  forced  apart.  A  small  piece  of  paper 
was  found  clinched  between  his  teeth.  This  paper 
has  been  recovered,  and  will  be  read  at  the  inquest. 
Perhaps  a  few  favored  persons  may  be  granted  the 
opportunity  of  reading  it  before  then,  notably 
yourself. 

Of  the  two  letters  the  latter  naturally  occasioned 
the  greater  excitement  in  the  recipient.  The  com 
placency  of  Miss  Butterworth  was  superb,  and  be- 


In   the   Round  of  the  Staircase 

ing  the  result  of  something  that  could  not  be  com 
municated  to  those  about  her,  occasioned  in  the 
household  much  speculation  as  to  its  cause. 

At  Police  Headquarters  more  than  one  man  was 
kept  busy  listening  to  the  idle  tales  of  a  crowd  of 
would-be  informers.  The  results  which  had  failed 
to  follow  the  first  day's  publication  of  the  crime 
came  rapidly  in  during  the  second.  There  were 
innumerable  persons  of  all  ages  and  conditions 
who  were  ready  to  tell  how  they  had  seen  this  and 
that  one  issue  from  Mr.  Adams's  house  on  the  after 
noon  of  his  death,  but  when  asked  to  give  a  descrip 
tion  of  these  persons,  lost  themselves  in  generalities 
as  tedious  as  they  were  unprofitable.  One  garru 
lous  old  woman  had  observed  a  lady  of  genteel  ap 
pearance  open  the  door  to  an  elderly  gentleman  in 
a  great-coat;  and  a  fashionably  dressed  young 
woman  came  in  all  breathless  to  relate  how  a 
young  man  with  a  very  pale  young  lady  on  his  arm 
ran  against  her  as  she  was  going  by  this  house 
at  the  very  hour  Mr.  Adams  was  said  to  have  been 
murdered.  She  could  not  be  sure  of  knowing  the 
young  man  again,  and  could  not  say  if  the  young 
lady  was  blonde  or  brunette,  only  that  she  was 
awfully  pale  and  had  a  beautiful  gray  feather  in 

her  hat. 

7  99 


The  Circular  Study 

Others  were  ready  with  similar  stories,  which 
confirmed,  without  adding  to,  the  facts  already 
known,  and  night  came  on  without  much  progress 
having  been  made  toward  the  unravelling  of  this 
formidable  mystery. 

On  the  next  day  Mr.  Adams's  funeral  took  place. 
No  relatives  or  intimate  friends  having  come  for 
ward,  his  landlord  attended  to  these  rites  and  his 
banker  acted  the  part  of  chief  mourner.  As  his 
body  was  carried  out  of  the  house,  a  half-dozen 
detectives  mingled  with  the  crowd  blocking  the 
thoroughfare  in  front,  but  nothing  came  of  their 
surveillance  here  or  at  the  cemetery  to  which  the 
remains  were  speedily  carried.  The  problem 
which  had  been  presented  to  the  police  had  to  be 
worked  out  from  such  material  as  had  already  come 
to  hand ;  and,  in  forcible  recognition  of  this  fact, 
Mr.  Gryce  excused  himself  one  evening  at  Head 
quarters  and  proceeded  quite  alone  and  on  foot  to 
the  dark  and  apparently  closed  house  in  which  the 
tragedy  had  occurred. 

He  entered  with  a  key,  and  once  inside,  pro 
ceeded  to  light  up  the  whole  house.  This  done, 
he  took  a  look  at  the  study,  saw  that  the  cross  had 
been  replaced  on  the  wall,  the  bird-cage  rehung 

on  its  hook  under  the  ceiling,  and  everything  put 
100 


In  the  Round  of  the  Staircase 

in  its  wonted  order,  with  the  exception  of  the 
broken  casings,  which  still  yawned  in  a  state  of 
disrepair  on  either  side  of  the  doorway  leading  into 
the  study.  The  steel  plate  had  been  shoved  back 
into  the  place  prepared  for  it  by  Mr.  Adams,  but 
the  glimpses  still  to  be  seen  of  its  blue  surface 
through  the  hole  made  in  the  wall  of  the  ante 
chamber  formed  anything  but  an  attractive  feature 
in  the  scene,  and  Mr.  Gryce,  with  something  of 
the  instinct  and  much  of  the  deftness  of  a  house 
wife,  proceeded  to  pull  up  a  couple  of  rugs  from 
the  parlor  floor  and  string  them  over  these  open 
ings.  Then  he  consulted  his  watch,  and  finding 
that  it  was  within  an  hour  of  nine  o'clock,  took 
up  his  stand  behind  the  curtains  of  the  parlor 
window.  Soon,  for  the  person  expected  was  as 
prompt  as  himself,  he  saw  a  carriage  stop  and  a 
lady  alight,  and  he  hastened  to  the  front  door 
to  receive  her.  It  was  Miss  Butterworth. 

"  Madam,  your  punctuality  is  equal  to  my  own," 
said  he.  "  Have  you  ordered  your  coachman  to 
drive  away  ? " 

"  Only  as  far  as  the  corner,"  she  returned,  as  she 
followed  him  down  the  hall.  "  There  he  will  await 
the  call  of  your  whistle." 

"  Nothing  could  be  better.     Are  you  afraid  to 
101 


The  Circular  Study 

remain  for  a  moment  alone,  while  I  watch  from 
the  window  the  arrival  of  the  other  persons  we  ex 
pect?  At  present  there  is  no  one  in  the  house 
but  ourselves." 

"  If  I  was  subject  to  fear  in  a  matter  of  this 
kind,  I  should  not  be  here  at  all.  Besides,  the 
house  is  very  cheerfully  lighted.  I  see  you  have 
chosen  a  crimson  light  for  illuminating  the  study." 

"  Because  a  crimson  light  was  burning  when  Mr. 
Adams  died." 

"  Remember  Evelyn !  "  called  out  a  voice. 

"Oh,  you  have  brought  back  the  bird!"  ex 
claimed  Miss  Butterworth.  "  That  is  not  the  cry 
with  which  it  greeted  me  before.  It  was  'Eva! 
Lovely  Eva ! '  Do  you  suppose  Eva  and  Evelyn 
are  the  same?  " 

"  Madam,  we  have  so  many  riddles  before  us 
that  we  will  let  this  one  go  for  the  present.  I 
expect  Mr.  Adams's  valet  here  in  a  moment. " 

"  Sir,  you  relieve  me  of  an  immense  weight.  I 
was  afraid  that  the  privilege  of  being  present  at 
the  test  you  propose  to  make  was  not  to  be  ac 
corded  me." 

"  Miss  Butterworth,  you  have  earned  a  seat  at 
this  experiment.  Bartow  has  been  given  a  key, 

and  will  enter  as  of  old  in  entire  freedom  to  do  as 
102 


In  the  Round  of  the  Staircase 

he  wills.  We  have  simply  to  watch  his  move 
ments." 

"  In  this  room,  sir  ?  I  do  not  think  I  shall  like 
that.  I  had  rather  not  meet  this  madman  face  to 
face." 

"  You  will  not  be  called  upon  to  do  so.  We  do 
not  wish  him  to  be  startled  by  encountering  any 
watchful  eye.  Irresponsible  as  he  is,  he  must  be 
allowed  to  move  about  without  anything  to  dis 
tract  his  attention.  Nothing  must  stand  in  the 
way  of  his  following  those  impulses  which  may 
yield  us  a  clew  to  his  habits  and  the  ways  of  this 
peculiar  household.  I  propose  to  place  you.  where 
the  chances  are  least  in  favor  of  your  being  seen 
by  him — in  this  parlor,  madam,  which  we  have 
every  reason  to  believe  was  seldom  opened  during 
Mr.  Adams's  lifetime." 

"  You  must  put  out  the  gas,  then,  or  the  unac 
customed  light  will  attract  his  attention." 

"  I  will  not  only  put  out  the  gas,  but  I  will  draw 
the  portieres  close,  making  this  little  hole  for  your 
eye  and  this  one  for  mine.  A  common  expedient, 
madam;  but  serviceable,  madam,  serviceable." 

The  snort  which  Miss  Butterworth  gave  as  she 
thus  found  herself  drawn  up  in  darkness  before  a 

curtain,  in  company  with  this  plausible  old  man, 
103 


The  Circular  Study 

but  feebly  conveyed  her  sensations,  which  were 
naturally  complex  and  a  little  puzzling  to  herself. 
Had  she  been  the  possessor  of  a  lively  curiosity 
(but  we  know  from  her  own  lips  that  she  was  not), 
she  might  have  found  some  enjoyment  in  the  situ 
ation.  But  being  where  she  was  solely  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  she  probably  blushed  behind  her 
screen  at  the  position  in  which  she  found  herself, 
in  the  cause  of  truth  and  justice;  or  would  have 
done  so  if  the  opening  of  the  front  door  at  that 
moment  had  not  told  her  that  the  critical  moment 
had  arrived  and  that  the  deaf-and-dumb  valet  had 
just  been  introduced  into  the  house. 

The  faintest  "  Hush  !  "  from  Mr.  Gryce  warned 
her  that  her  surmise  was  correct,  and,  bending  her 
every  energy  to  listen,  she  watched  for  the  expected 
appearance  of  this  man  in  the  antechamber  of  Mr. 
Adams's  former  study. 

He  came  even  sooner  than  she  was  prepared  to 
see  him,  and  laying  down  his  hat  on  a  table  near 
the  doorway,  advanced  with  a  busy  air  toward  the 
portiere  he  had  doubtless  been  in  the  habit  of  lift 
ing  twenty  times  a  day.  But  he  barely  touched  it 
this  time.  Something  seen,  or  unseen,  prevented 
him  from  entering.  Was  it  the  memory  of  what 

he  had  last  beheld  there  ?     Or  had  he  noticed  the 
104 


In  the  Round  of  the  Staircase 

rugs  hanging  in  an  unaccustomed  way  on  either 
side  of  the  damaged  casings  ?  Neither,  apparent 
ly,  for  he  simply  turned  away  with  a  meek  look, 
wholly  mechanical,  and  taking  up  his  hat  again, 
left  the  antechamber  and  proceeded  softly  up 
stairs. 

"  I  will  follow  him,"  whispered  Mr.  Gryce. 
"  Don't  be  afraid,  ma'am.  This  whistle  will  bring 
a  man  in  from  the  street  at  once." 

"  I  am  not  afraid.     I  would  be  ashamed " 

But  it  was  useless  for  her  to  finish  this  dis 
claimer.  Mr.  Gryce  was  already  in  the  hall.  He 
returned  speedily,  and  saying  that  the  experiment 
was  likely  to  be  a  failure,  as  the  old  man  had  gone 
to  his  own  room  and  was  preparing  himself  for 
bed,  he  led  the  way  into  the  study,  and  with  pur 
pose,  or  without  a  purpose — who  knows? — idly 
touched  a  button  on  the  table  top,  thus  throwing 
a  new  light  on  the  scene.  It  was  Miss  Butter- 
worth's  first  experience  of  this  change  of  light,  and 
she  was  observing  the  effect  made  by  the  violet 
glow  now  thrown  over  the  picture  and  the  other 
rich  articles  in  the  room  when  her  admiration  was 
cut  short,  and  Mr.  Gryce's  half-uttered  remark 
also,  by  the  faint  sound  of  the  valet's  descending 
steps. 


The  Circular  Study 

Indeed,  they  had  barely  time  to  regain  their  old 
position  behind  the  parlor  portieres  when  Bartow 
was  seen  hurrying  in  from  the  hall  with  his  former 
busy  air,  which  this  time  remained  unchecked. 

Crossing  to  his  master's  study,  he  paused  for  an 
infinitesimal  length  of  time  on  the  threshold,  as 
if  conscious  of  something  being  amiss,  then  went 
into  the  room  beyond,  and,  without  a  glance  in  the 
direction  of  the  rug,  which  had  been  carefully  re- 
laid  on  the  spot  where  his  master  had  fallen,  began 
to  make  such  arrangements  for  the  night  as  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  making  at  this  hour.  He  brought  a 
bottle  of  wine  from  the  cupboard  and  set  it  on  the 
table,  and  then  a  glass,  which  he  first  wiped 
scrupulously  clean.  Then  he  took  out  his  master's 
dressing  gown  and  slippers,  and,  placing  them  to 
hand,  went  into  the  bedroom. 

By  this  time  the  two  watchers  had  crept  from 
their  concealment  near  enough  to  note  what  he 
was  doing  in  the  bedroom.  He  was  stooping 
over  the  comb  which  Mr.  Gryce  had  left  lying  on 
the  floor.  This  small  object  in  such  a  place 
seemed  to  surprise  him.  He  took  it  up,  shook  his 
head,  and  put  it  back  on  the  dresser.  Then  he 
turned  down  his  master's  bed. 

"  Poor  fool !  "    murmured  Miss  Butterworth  as 
1 06 


In  the  Round  of  the  Staircase 

she  and  her  companion  crept  back  to  their  old 
place  behind  the  parlor  curtains,  "  he  has  forgotten 
everything  but  his  old  routine  duties.  We  shall 
get  nothing  from  this  man." 

But  she  stopped  suddenly;  they  both  stopped. 
Bartow  was  in  the  middle  of  the  study,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  his  master's  empty  chair  in  an  in 
quiring  way  that  spoke  volumes.  Then  he  turned, 
and  gazed  earnestly  at  the  rug  where  he  had  last 
seen  that  master  lying  outstretched  and  breathless ; 
and  awakening  to  a  realization  of  what  had  hap 
pened,  fell  into  his  most  violent  self  and  pro 
ceeded  to  go  through  the  series  of  actions  which 
they  were  now  bound  to  consider  a  reproduction 
of  what  he  had  previously  seen  take  place  there. 
Then  he  went  softly  out,  and  crept  away  up 
stairs. 

Mr.  Gryce  and  Miss  Butterworth  stepped  at 
once  into  the  light,  and  surveyed  each  other  with 
a  look  of  marked  discouragement.  Then  the  lat 
ter,  with  a  sudden  gleam  of  enthusiasm,  cried 
quickly : 

"  Turn  on  another  color,  and  let  us  see  what  will 
happen.  I  have  an  idea  it  will  fetch  the  old  man 
down  again. " 

Mr.  Gryce's  brows  went  up. 
107 


The  Circular  Study 

"  Do  you  think  he  can  see  through  the  floor? " 

But  he  touched  a  button,  and  a  rich  blue  took 
the  place  of  the  violet. 

Nothing  happened. 

Miss  Butterworth  looked  disturbed. 

"  I  have  confidence  in  your  theories,"  began  Mr. 
Gryce,  "but  when  they  imply  the  possibility  of 
this  man  seeing  through  blank  walls  and  obeying 
signals  which  can  have  no  signification  to  any  one 
on  the  floor  above — 

"  Hark !  "  she  cried,  holding  up  one  finger  with 
a  triumphant  air.  The  old  man's  steps  could  be 
heard  descending. 

This  time  he  approached  with  considerable  fee 
bleness,  passed  slowly  into  the  study,  advanced  to 
the  table,  and  reached  out  his  hands  as  if  to  lift 
something  which  he  expected  to  find  there.  See 
ing  nothing,  he  glanced  in  astonishment  up  at  the 
book  shelves  and  then  back  to  the  table,  shook  his 
head,  and  suddenly  collapsing,  sank  in  a  doze  on 
the  nearest  chair. 

Miss  Butterworth  drew  a  long  breath,  eyed  Mr. 
Gryce  with  some  curiosity,  and  then  triumphantly 
exclaimed : 

"  Can  you  read  the  meaning  of  all  that  ?     I  think 

I  can.      Don't  you  see  that  he  came  expecting  to 
1 08 


In  the  Round  of  the  Staircase 

find  a  pile  of  books  on  the  table  which  it  was 
probably  his  business  to  restore  to  their  shelves  ?  " 

"  But  how  can  he  know  what  light  is  burning 
here  ?  You  can  see  for  yourself  that  there  is  no 
possible  communication  between  this  room  and 
the  one  in  which  he  has  always  been  found  by  any 
one  going  above." 

Miss  Butterworth's  manner  showed  a  hesitation 
that  was  almost  naive.  She  smiled,  and  there  was 
apology  in  her  smile,  though  none  in  her  voice,  as 
she  remarked  with  odd  breaks : 

"  When  I  went  upstairs — you  know  I  went  up 
stairs  when  I  was  here  before — I  saw  a  little 
thing — a  very  little  thing — which  you  doubtless 
observed  yourself  and  which  may  explain,  though 
I  do  not  know  how,  why  Bartow  can  perceive 
these  lights  from  the  floor  above." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  hear  about  it,  madam. 
I  thought  I  had  thoroughly  searched  those 
rooms " 

"And  the  halls?" 

"  And  the  halls ;  and  that  nothing  in  them  could 
have  escaped  my  eyes.  But  if  you  have  a  more 
patient  vision  than  myself " 

"  Or  make  it  my  business  to  look  lower " 

"How?" 

109 


The   Circular  Study 


"To  look  lower;  to  look  on  the  floor,  say." 

"On  the  floor?" 

"  The  floor  sometimes  reveals  much :  shows 
where  a  person  steps  the  oftenest,  and,  therefore, 
where  he  has  the  most  business.  You  must  have 
noticed  how  marred  the  woodwork  is  at  the  edge 
of  the  carpeting  on  that  little  landing  above." 

"  In  the  round  of  the  staircase?  " 

"  Yes." 

Mr.  Gryce  did  not  think  it  worth  his  while  to 
answer.  Perhaps  he  had  not  time;  for  leaving 
the  valet  where  he  was,  and  Miss  Butterworth 
where  she  was  (only  she  would  not  be  left,  but  fol 
lowed  him),  he  made  his  way  upstairs,  and  paused 
at  the  place  she  had  mentioned,  with  a  curious 
look  at  the  floor. 

"  You  see,  it  has  been  much  trodden  here,"  she 
said ;  at  which  gentle  reminder  of  her  presence  he 
gave  a  start ;  possibly  he  had  not  heard  her  behind 
him,  and  after  sixty  years  of  hard  service  even  a 
detective  may  be  excused  a  slight  nervousness. 
"Now,  why  should  it  be  trodden  here?  There  is 
no  apparent  reason  why  any  one  should  shuffle  to 
and  fro  in  this  corner.  The  stair  is  wide,  espe 
cially  here,  and  there  is  no  window- 
Mr.  Gryce,  whose  eye  had  been  travelling  over 
no 


In  the  Round  of  the  Staircase 

the  wall,  reached  over  her  shoulder  to  one  of  the 
dozen  pictures  hanging  at  intervals  from  the  bot 
tom  to  the  top  of  the  staircase,  and  pulling  it  away 
from  the  wall,  on  which  it  hung  decidedly  askew, 
revealed  a  round  opening  through  which  poured  a 
ray  of  blue  light  which  could  only  proceed  from 
the  vault  of  the  adjoining  study. 

"  No  window,"  he  repeated.  "  No,  but  an  open 
ing  into  the  study  wall  which  answers  the  same 
purpose.  Miss  Butterworth,  your  eye  is  to  be 
trusted  every  time.  I  only  wonder  you  did  not 
pull  this  picture  aside  yourself. " 

"  It  was  not  hanging  crooked  then.  Besides  I 
was  in  a  hurry.  I  had  just  come  from  my  en 
counter  with  this  demented  man.  I  had  noticed 
the  marks  on  the  landing,  and  the  worn  edges  of 
the  carpet,  on  my  way  upstairs.  I  was  in  no  con 
dition  to  observe  them  on  my  way  down." 

"  I  see." 

Miss  Butterworth  ran  her  foot  to  and  fro  over 
the  flooring  they  were  examining. 

"  Bartow  was  evidently  in  the  habit  of  coming 
here  constantly,"  said  she,  "probably  to  learn 
whether  his  master  had  need  of  him.  Ingenious 
in  Mr.  Adams  to  contrive  signals  for  communica 
tion  with  this  man !  He  certainly  had  great  use 
in 


The  Circular  Study 

for  his  deaf-and-dumb  servant.  So  one  mystery 
is  solved!" 

"  And  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  we  can  by  a  glance 
through  this  loophole  obtain  the  answer  to  another. 
You  are  wondering,  I  believe,  how  Bartow,  if  he 
followed  the  movements  of  the  assailant  from  the 
doorway,  came  to  thrust  with  his  left  hand,  instead 
of  with  his  right.  Now  if  he  saw  the  tragedy  from 
this  point,  he  saw  it  over  the  assailant's  shoulder, 
instead  of  face  to  face.  What  follows?  He 
would  imitate  literally  the  movements  of  the  man 
he  saw,  turn  in  the  same  direction  and  strike  with 
the  same  hand." 

"  Mr.  Gryce,  we  are  beginning  to  untangle  the 
threads  that  looked  so  complicated.  Ah,  what  is 
that  ?  Why,  it's  that  bird !  His  cage  must  be 
very  nearly  under  this  hole." 

"  A  little  to  one  side,  madam,  but  near  enough 
to  give  you  a  start.  What  was  it  he  cried  then  ?  " 

"Oh,  those  sympathetic  words  about  Eva! 
'Poor  Eva!'" 

"  Well,  give  a  glance  to  Bartow.  You  can  see 
him  very  well  from  here." 

Miss  Butterworth  put  her  eye  again  to  the  open 
ing,  and  gave  a  grunt,  a  very  decided  grunt.  With 
her  a  grunt  was  significant  of  surprise. 


112 


In  the  Round  of  the  Staircase 

"He  is  shaking  his  fist;  he  is  all  alive  with 
passion.  He  looks  as  if  he  would  like  to  kill  the 
bird." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  why  the  creature  was  strung 
up  so  high.  You  may  be  sure  Mr.  Adams  had 
some  basis  for  his  idiosyncrasies." 

"  I  begin  to  think  so.  I  don't  know  that  I  care 
to  go  back  where  that  man  is.  He  has  a  very 
murderous  look. " 

"And  a  very  feeble  arm,  Miss  Butterworth. 
You  are  safe  under  my  protection.  My  arm  is  not 
feeble."* 


A-TABLC.  B-SMALLSTAND.C-DOOR  TO  BEDROOM  D-EVELYN'S  PICTURE 
E-LOOPHOLE  ON  STAIR  LANDING.  F-  ENTRANCE  TO  STUDY. 

*  Since  my  readers  may  not  understand  how  an  opening  above 
the  stairway  might  communicate  with  Mr.  Adams's  study,  I  here 
submit  a  diagram  of  the  same.  The  study  walls  were  very  high, 
forming  a  rounded  extension  at  the  back  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

HIGH     AND    LOW. 

AT  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Mr.  Gryce  excused 
himself,  and  calling  in  two  or  three  men  whom  he 
had  left  outside,  had  the  valet  removed  before  tak 
ing  Miss  Butterworth  back  into  the  study.  When 
all  was  quiet  again,  and  they  found  an  opportunity 
to  speak,  Mr.  Gryce  remarked : 

"  One  very  important  thing  has  been  settled  by 
the  experiment  we  have  just  made.  Bartow  is  ac 
quitted  of  participation  in  this  crime. " 

"Then  we  can  give  our  full  attention  to  the 
young  people.  You  have  heard  nothing  from 
them,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Nor  from  the  old  man  who  laughed?  " 

"No." 

Miss  Butterworth  looked  disappointed. 

"  I  thought — it  seemed  very  probable — that  the 
scrap  of  writing  you  found  would  inform  you  who 

these  were.     If  it  was  important  enough  for  the 
114 


High  and  Low 

dying  man  to  try  to  swallow  it,  it  certainly  should 
give  some  clew  to  his  assailant." 

"  Unfortunately,  it  does  not  do  so.     It  was  a 
veritable  scrawl,  madam,  running  something  like 
this  :  '  I  return  your  daughter  to  you.      She  is  here. 
Neither  she  nor  you  will  ever  see  me  again.     Re 
member  Evelyn!  '     And  signed,   '  Amos's  son." 
"  Amos's  son!     That  is  Mr.  Adams  himself." 
"  So  we  have  every  reason  to  believe." 
"  Strange  !      Unaccountable !      And   the   paper 
inscribed  with  these  words  was  found  clinched  be 
tween  his   teeth!     Was   the   handwriting   recog 
nized?" 

"Yes,  as  his  own,  if  we  can  judge  from  the 
specimens  we  have  seen  of  his  signature  on  the 
fly-leaves  of  his  books." 

"  Well,  mysteries  deepen.  And  the  retaining 
of  this  paper  was  so  important  to  him  that  even  in 
his  death  throe  he  thrust  it  in  this  strangest  of  all 
hiding-places,  as  being  the  only  one  that  could  be 
considered  safe  from  search.  And  the  girl !  Her 
first  words  on  coming  to  herself  were :  '  You  have 
left  that  line  of  writing  behind.'  Mr.  Gryce,  those 
words,  few  and  inexplicable  as  they  are,  contain 
the  key  to  the  whole  situation.  Will  you  repeat 

them  again,  if  you  please,  sentence  by  sentence  ?  " 
8  115 


The  Circular  Study 

"  With  pleasure,  madam ;  I  have  said  them  often 
enough  to  myself.  First,  then :  '  I  return  your 
daughter  to  you ! ' ' 

"  So !  Mr.  Adams  had  some  one's  daughter  in 
charge  whom  he  returns.  Whose  daughter  ?  Not 
that  young  man's  daughter,  certainly,  for  that 
would  necessitate  her  being  a  small  child.  Be 
sides,  if  these  words  had  been  meant  for  his  as 
sailant,  why  make  so  remarkable  an  effort  to  hide 
them  from  him?  " 

"Very  true!  I  have  said  the  same  thing  to 
myself." 

"  Yet,  if  not  for  him,  for  whom,  then  ?  For 
the  old  gentleman  who  came  in  later?  " 

"  It  is  possible ;  since  hearing  of  him  I  have  al 
lowed  myself  to  regard  this  as  among  the  possibili 
ties,  especially  as  the  next  words  of  this  strange 
communication  are :  '  She  is  here. '  Now  the  only 
woman  who  was  there  a  few  minutes  previous  to 
this  old  gentleman's  visit  was  the  light-haired  girl 
whom  you  saw  carried  out." 

"  Very  true ;  but  why  do  you  reason  as  if  this 
paper  had  just  been  written?  It  might  have  been 
an  old  scrap,  referring  to  past  sorrows  or  secrets." 

"  These  words  were  written  that  afternoon.  The 
paper  on  which  they  were  scrawled  was  torn  from 


High  and  Low 

a  sheet  of  letter  paper  lying  on  the  desk,  and  the 
pen  with  which  they  were  inscribed — you  must 
have  noticed  where  it  lay,  quite  out  of  its  natural 
place  on  the  extreme  edge  of  the  table. " 

"Certainly,  sir;  but  I  had  little  idea  of  the  sig 
nificance  we  might  come  to  attach  to  it.  These 
words  are  connected,  then,  with  the  girl  I  saw. 
And  she  is  not  Evelyn  or  he  would  not  have  re 
peated  in  this  note  the  bird's  catch-word,  '  Re 
member  Evelyn  ! '  I  wonder  if  she  is  Evelyn  ?  " 
proceeded  Miss  Butterworth,  pointing  to  the  one 
large  picture  which  adorned  the  wall. 

"  We  may  call  her  so  for  the  nonce.  So  melan 
choly  a  face  may  well  suggest  some  painful  family 
secret.  But  how  explain  the  violent  part  played 
by  the  young  man,  who  is  not  mentioned  in  these 
abrupt  and  hastily  penned  sentences !  It  is  all  a 
mystery,  madam,  a  mystery  which  we  are  wasting 
time  to  attempt  to  solve." 

"  Yet  I  hate  to  give  it  up  without  an  effort 
Those  words,  now.  There  were  some  other  words 
you  have  not  repeated  to  me." 

"They  came  before  that  injunction,  *  Remem 
ber  Evelyn ! '  They  bespoke  a  resolve.  '  Neither 
she  nor  you  will  ever  see  me  again.' " 

"  Ah !  but  these  few  words  are  very  significant, 
117 


The  Circular  Study 

Mr.  Gryce.     Could  he  have  dealt  that  blow  him 
self  ?     May  he  have  been  a  suicide  after  all?  " 

"Madam,  you  have  the  right  to  inquire;  but 
from  Bartow's  pantomime,  you  must  have  per 
ceived  it  is  not  a  self-inflicted  blow  he  mimics,  but 
a  maddened  thrust  from  an  outraged  hand.  Let 
us  keep  to  our  first  conclusions ;  only — to  be  fair 
to  every  possibility — the  condition  of  Mr.  Adams's 
affairs  and  the  absence  of  all  family  papers  and 
such  documents  as  may  usually  be  found  in  a 
wealthy  man's  desk  prove  that  he  had  made  some 
preparation  for  possible  death.  It  may  have  come 
sooner  than  he  expected  and  in  another  way,  but 
it  was  a  thought  he  had  indulged  in,  and — madam, 
I  have  a  confession  to  make  also.  I  have  not  been 
quite  fair  to  my  most  valued  colleague.  The  study 
—that  most  remarkable  of  rooms — contains  a  secret 
which  has  not  been  imparted  to  you ;  a  very  pe 
culiar  one,  madam,  which  was  revealed  to  me  in 
a  rather  startling  manner.  This  room  can  be,  or 
rather  could  be,  cut  off  entirely  from  the  rest  of 
the  house ;  made  a  death-trap  of,  or  rather  a  tomb, 
in  which  this  incomprehensible  man  may  have  in 
tended  to  die.  Look  at  this  plate  of  steel.  It  is 
worked  by  a  mechanism  which  forces  it  across  this 

open  doorway.     I  was  behind  that  plate  of  steel 
118 


High  and  Low 

the  other  night,  and  these  holes  had  to  be  made  to 
let  me  out." 

"  Ha !  You  detectives  have  your  experiences ! 
I  should  not  have  enjoyed  spending  that  especial 
evening  with  you.  But  what  an  old-world  tragedy 
we  are  unearthing  here!  I  declare" — and  the 
good  lady  actually  rubbed  her  eyes — "  I  feel  as 
if  transported  back  to  mediaeval  days.  Who  says 
we  are  living  in  New  York  within  sound  of  the 
cable  car  and  the  singing  of  the  telegraph  wire?  " 

"  Some  men  are  perfectly  capable  of  bringing 
the  mediaeval  into  Wall  Street.  I  think  Mr. 
Adams  was  one  of  those  men.  Romanticism 
tinged  all  his  acts,  even  the  death  he  died.  Nor 
did  it  cease  with  his  death.  It  followed  him  to 
the  tomb.  Witness  the  cross  we  found  lying  on 
his  bosom." 

"  That  was  the  act  of  another's  hand,  the  result  of 
another's  superstition.  That  shows  the  presence 
of  a  priest  or  a  woman  at  the  moment  he  died." 

"  Yet,"  proceeded  Mr.  Gryce,  with  a  somewhat 
wondering  air,  "  he  must  have  had  a  grain  of  hard 
sense  in  his  make-up.  All  his  contrivances 
worked.  He  was  a  mechanical  genius,  as  well  as 
a  lover  of  mystery." 

"  An  odd  combination.     Strange  that  we  do  not 
119 


The  Circular  Study 

feel  his  spirit  infecting  the  very  air  of  this  study. 
I  could  almost  wish  it  did.  We  might  then  be 
led  to  grasp  the  key  to  this  mystery." 

"That,"  remarked  Mr.  Gryce,  "can  be  done 
in  only  one  way.  You  have  already  pointed  it 
out.  We  must  trace  the  young  couple  who  were 
present  at  his  death  struggle.  If  they  cannot  be 
found  the  case  is  hopeless." 

"And  so,"  said  she,  "we  come  around  to  the 
point  from  which  we  started — proof  positive  that 
we  are  lost  in  the  woods."  And  Miss  Butterworth 
rose.  She  felt  that  for  the  time  being  she,  at  least, 
had  come  to  the  end  of  her  resources. 

Mr.  Gryce  did  not  seek  to  detain  her.  Indeed, 
he  appeared  to  be  anxious  to  leave  the  place  him 
self.  They,  however,  stopped  long  enough  to  cast 
one  final  look  around  them.  As  they  did  so  Miss 
Butterworth' s  finger  slowly  rose. 

"  See !  "  said  she,  "  you  can  hardly  perceive 
from  this  side  of  the  wall  the  opening  made  by 
the  removal  of  that  picture  on  the  stair  landing. 
Wouldn't  you  say  that  it  was  in  the  midst  of  those 
folds  of  dark- colored  tapestry  up  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  had  already  located  that  spot  as  the  one. 
With  the  picture  hung  up  on  the  other  side,  it 
would  be  quite  invisible." 


120 


High  and  Low 

"  One  needs  to  keep  one's  eyes  moving  in  a  case 
like  this.  That  picture  must  have  been  drawn 
aside  several  times  while  we  were  in  this  room. 
Yet  we  failed  to  notice  it." 

"  That  was  from  not  looking  high  enough.  H  igh 
and  low,  Mr.  Gryce !  What  goes  on  at  the  level 
of  the  eye  is  apparent  to  every  one." 

The  smile  with  which  he  acknowledged  this 
parting  shot  and  prepared  to  escort  her  to  the 
door  had  less  of  irony  than  sadness  in  it.  Was 
he  beginning  to  realize  that  years  tell  even  on  the 
most  sagacious,  and  that  neither  high  places  nor 
low  would  have  escaped  his  attention  a  dozen 
years  before? 


121 


CHAPTER   X. 

BRIDE    ROSES. 

"A  BLONDE,  you  say,  sir?  " 

"Yes,  Sweetwater;  not  of  the  usual  type,  but 
one  of  those  frail,  ethereal  creatures  whom  we  find 
it  so  hard  to  associate  with  crime.  He,  on  the 
contrary,  according  to  Miss  Butterworth's  descrip 
tion  (and  her  descriptions  may  be  relied  upon),  is 
one  of  those  gentlemanly  athletes  whose  towering 
heads  and  powerful  figures  attract  universal  atten 
tion.  Seen  together,  you  would  be  apt  to  know 
them.  But  what  reason  have  we  for  thinking  they 
will  be  found  together?  " 

"  How  were  they  dressed  ?  " 

"  Like  people  of  fashion  and  respectability.  He 
wore  a  brown- checked  suit  apparently  fresh  from 
the  tailor;  she,  a  dove-colored  dress  with  white 
trimmings.  The  parasol  shows  the  color  of  her 
hat  and  plumes.  Both  were  young,  and  (still  ac 
cording  to  Miss  Butterworth)  of  sensitive  temper 
ament  and  unused  to  crime ;  for  she  was  in  a  faint 
ing  condition  when  carried  from  the  house,  and  he, 


122 


Bride  Roses 

with  every  inducement  to  self-restraint,  showed 
himself  the  victim  of  such  powerful  emotion  that 
he  would  have  been  immediately  surrounded  and 
questioned  if  he  had  not  set  his  burden  down  in 
the  vestibule  and  at  once  plunged  with  the  girl 
into  the  passing  crowd.  Do  you  think  you  can 
find  them,  Sweetwater  ?  " 

"  Have  you  no  clews  to  their  identity  beyond 
this  parasol?  " 

"  None,  Sweetwater,  if  you  except  these  few 
faded  rose  leaves  picked  up  from  the  floor  of  Mr. 
Adams's  study." 

"Then  you  have  given  me  a  problem,  Mr. 
Gryce,"  remarked  the  young  detective  dubiously, 
as  he  eyed  the  parasol  held  out  to  him  and  let  the 
rose-leaves  drop  carelessly  through  his  fingers. 
"  Somehow  I  do  not  feel  the  same  assurances  of 
success  that  I  did  before.  Perhaps  I  more  fully 
realize  the  difficulties  of  any  such  quest,  now  that 
I  see  how  much  rests  upon  chance  in  these  mat 
ters.  If  Miss  Butterworth  had  not  been  a  precise 
woman,  I  should  have  failed  in  my  former  attempt, 
as  I  am  likely  to  fail  in  this  one.  But  I  will 
make  another  effort  to  locate  the  owner  of  this 
parasol,  if  only  to  learn  my  business  by  failure. 

And  now,  sir,  where  do  you  think    I  am  going 
123 


The  Circular  Study 

first  ?  To  a  florist's,  with  these  faded  rose-leaves. 
Just  because  every  other  young  fellow  on  the  force 
would  make  a  start  from  the  parasol,  I  am  going 
to  try  and  effect  one  from  these  rose-leaves.  I 
may  be  an  egotist,  but  I  cannot  help  that.  I  can 
do  nothing  with  the  parasol." 

"And  what  do  you  hope  to  do  with  the  rose- 
leaves?  How  can  a  florist  help  you  in  finding 
this  young  woman  by  means  of  them  ?  " 

"  He  may  be  able  to  say  from  what  kind  of  a 
rose  they  fell,  and  once  I  know  that,  I  may  suc 
ceed  in  discovering  the  particular  store  from  which 
the  bouquet  was  sold  to  this  more  or  less  conspic 
uous  couple." 

"  You  may.  I  am  not  the  man  to  throw  cold 
water  on  any  one's  schemes.  Every  man  has  his 
own  methods,  and  till  they  are  proved  valueless  I 
say  nothing." 

Young  Sweetwater,  who  was  now  all  nerve, 
enthusiasm,  and  hope,  bowed.  He  was  satisfied 
to  be  allowed  to  work  in  his  own  way. 

"  I  may  be  back  in  an  hour,  and  you  may  not 
see  me  for  a  week,"  he  remarked  on  leaving. 

"  Luck  to  your  search ! "  was  the  short  reply. 
This  ended  the  interview.  In  a  few  minutes  more 

Sweetwater  was  off. 

124 


Bride  Roses 

The  hour  passed;  he  did  not  come  back;  the 
day,  and  still  no  Sweetwater.  Another  day  went 
by,  enlivened  only  by  an  interchange  of  notes 
between  Mr.  Gryce  and  Miss  Butterworth.  Hers 
was  read  by  the  old  detective  with  a  smile.  Per 
haps  because  it  was  so  terse ;  perhaps  because  it 
was  so  characteristic. 

Dear  Mr.  Gryce : 

I  do  not  presume  to  dictate  or  even  to  offer  a 
suggestion  to  the  New  York  police,  but  have  you 
inquired  of  the  postman  in  a  certain  district 
whether  he  can  recall  the  postmark  on  any  of  the 
letters  he  delivered  to  Mr.  Adams  ?  A.  B. 

His,  on  the  contrary,  was  perused  with  a  frown 
by  his  exacting  colleague  in  Gramercy  Park.  The 
reason  is  obvious. 

Dear  Miss  Butterworth : 

Suggestions  are  always  in  order,  and  even  dicta 
tion  can  be  endured  from  you.  The  postman  de 
livers  too  many  letters  on  that  block  to  concern 
himself  with  postmarks.  Sorry  to  close  another 
thoroughfare.  E.  G. 

Meanwhile,  the  anxiety  of  both  was  great ;  that 
of  Mr.    Gryce  excessive.      He  was  consequently 
much   relieved  when,  on   the  third   morning,  he 
I25 


The  Circular  Study 

found  Sweetwater  awaiting  him  at  the  office,  with 
a  satisfied  smile  lighting  up  his  plain  features. 
He  had  reserved  his  story  for  his  special  patron, 
and  as  soon  as  they  were  closeted  together  he 
turned  with  beaming  eyes  toward  the  old  detective, 
crying : 

"  News,  sir ;  good  news !  I  have  found  them ; 
I  have  found  them  both,  and  by  such  a  happy 
stroke !  It  was  a  blind  trail,  but  when  the  florist 
said  that  those  petals  might  have  fallen  from  a 
bride  rose — well,  sir,  I  know  that  any  woman  can 
carry  bride  roses,  but  when  I  remembered  that  the 
clothes  of  her  companion  looked  as  though  they 
had  just  come  from  the  tailor's,  and  that  she  wore 
gray  and  white — why,  it  gave  me  an  idea,  and  I 
began  my  search  after  this  unknown  pair  at  the 
Bureau  of  Vital  Statistics." 

.  "Brilliant!"  ejaculated  the  old  detective. 
"That  is,  if  the  thing  worked." 

"  And  it  did,  sir ;  it  did.  I  may  have  been  born 
under  a  lucky  star,  probably  was,  but  once  started 
on  this  line  of  search,  I  went  straight  to  the  end. 
Shall  I  tell  you  how?  Hunting  through  the  list 
of  such  persons  as  had  been  married  within  the  city 
limits  during  the  last  two  weeks,  I  came  upon  the 

name  of  one  Eva  Poindexter.      Eva!  that  was  a 
126 


Bride  Roses 

name  well-known  in  the  house  on Street. 

I  decided  to  follow  up  this  Eva. " 

"  A  wise  conclusion !  And  how  did  you  set 
about  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  went  directly  to  the  clergyman  who 
had  performed  the  ceremony.  He  was  a  kind  and 
affable  dominie,  sir,  and  I  had  no  trouble  in  talk 
ing  to  him." 

"  And  you  described  the  bride  ?  " 

"  No,  I  led  the  conversation  so  that  he  described 
her. " 

"  Good ;  and  what  kind  of  a  woman  did  he  make 
her  out  to  be  ?  Delicate  ?  Pale  ?  " 

"  Sir,  he  had  not  read  the  service  for  so  lovely  a 
bride  in  years.  Very  slight,  almost  fragile,  but 
beautiful,  and  with  a  delicate  bloom  which  showed 
her  to  be  in  better  health  than  one  would  judge 
from  her  dainty  figure.  It  was  a  private  wedding, 
sir,  celebrated  in  a  hotel  parlor;  but  her  father 
was  with  her " 

"  Her  father?  "  Mr.  Gryce's  theory  received  its 
first  shock.  Then  the  old  man  who  had  laughed 
on  leaving  Mr.  Adams's  house  was  not  the  father 
to  whom  those  few  lines  in  Mr.  Adams's  handwrit 
ing  were  addressed.  Or  this  young  woman  was 

not  the  person  referred  to  in  those  lines. 
127 


The  Circular  Study 

"  Is  there  anything  wrong  about  that  ?  "  inquired 
Sweetwater. 

Mr.  Gryce  became  impassive  again. 

"  No ;  I  had  not  expected  his  attendance  at  the 
wedding;  that  is  all." 

"  Sorry,  sir,  but  there  is  no  doubt  about  his  hav 
ing  been  there.  The  bridegroom 

"  Yes,  tell  me  about  the  bridegroom." 

"  Was  the  very  man  you  described  to  me  as 
leaving  Mr.  Adams's  house  with  her.  Tall,  finely 
developed,  with  a  grand  air  and  gentlemanly  man 
ners.  Even  his  clothes  correspond  with  what  you 
told  me  to  expect :  a  checked  suit,  brown  in 
color,  and  of  the  latest  cut.  Oh,  he  is  the 
man!" 

Mr.  Gryce,  with  a  suddenly  developed  interest 
in  the  lid  of  his  ink-stand,  recalled  the  lines  which 
Mr.  Adams  had  written  immediately  before  his 
death,  and  found  himself  wholly  at  sea.  How  rec 
oncile  facts  so  diametrically  opposed  ?  What  al 
lusion  could  there  be  in  these  lines  to  the  new- 
made  bride  of  another  man  ?  They  read,  rather, 
as  if  she  were  his  own  bride,  as  witness : 

I  return  your  daughter  to  you.  She  is  here. 
Neither  she  nor  you  will  ever  see  me  again.  Re 
member  Evelyn !  AMOS'S  SON. 

128 


Bride  Roses 

There  must  be  something  wrong.  Sweetwater 
must  have  been  led  astray  by  a  series  of  extraor 
dinary  coincidences.  Dropping  the  lid  of  the 
ink-stand  in  a  way  to  make  the  young  man  smile, 
he  looked  up. 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  been  a  fool  chase,  Sweetwater. 
The  facts  you  relate  in  regard  to  this  couple,  the 
fact  of  their  having  been  married  at  all,  tally  so 
little  with  what  we  have  been  led  to  expect  from 
certain  other  evidences  which  have  come  in " 

"Pardon  me,  sir,  but  will  you  hear  me  out? 
At  the  Imperial,  where  they  were  married,  I 
learned  that  the  father  and  daughter  had  registered 
as  coming  from  a  small  place  in  Pennsylvania ;  but 
I  could  learn  nothing  in  regard  to  the  bridegroom. 
He  had  not  appeared  on  the  scene  till  the  time 
for  the  ceremony,  and  after  the  marriage  was  seen 
to  take  his  bride  away  in  one  carriage  while  the 
old  gentleman  departed  in  another.  The  latter 
concerned  me  little ;  it  was  the  young  couple  I  had 
been  detailed  to  find.  Employing  the  usual  means 
of  search,  I  tracked  them  to  the  Waldorf,  where  I 
learned  what  makes  it  certain  that  I  have  been  fol 
lowing  the  right  couple.  On  the  afternoon  of  the 
very  day  of  Mr.  Adams's  death,  this  young  husband 

and  wife  left  the  hotel  on  foot  and  did  not  come 
129 


The  Circular  Study 

back.  Their  clothes,  which  had  all  been  left  be 
hind,  were  taken  away  two  days  later  by  an  elder 
ly  gentleman  who  said  he  was  her  father  and 
whose  appearance  coincides  with  that  of  the  per 
son  registering  as  such  at  the  Imperial.  All  of 
which  looks  favorable  to  my  theory,  does  it  not, 
especially  when  you  remember  that  the  bride 
groom's  name — 

"You  have  not  told  it." 

"  Is  Adams,  Thomas  Adams.  Same  family  as 
the  murdered  man,  you  see.  At  least,  he  has  the 
same  name." 

Mr.  Gryce  surveyed  the  young  man  with  admir- 
•  ation,  but  was  not  yet  disposed  to  yield  him  entire 
credence. 

"  Humph !  I  do  not  wonder  you  thought  it 
worth  your  while  to  follow  up  the  pair,  if  one  of 
them  is  named  Adams  and  the  other  Eva.  But, 
Sweetwater,  the  longer  you  serve  on  the  force  the 
more  you  will  learn  that  coincidences  as  strange 
and  unexpected  as  these  do  occur  at  times,  and 
must  be  taken  into  account  in  the  elucidation  of 
a  difficult  problem.  Much  as  I  may  regret  to 
throw  cold  water  on  your  hopes,  there  are  reasons 
for  believing  that  the  young  man  and  woman 

whom  we  are  seeking  are  not  the  ones  you  have 
130 


Bride  Roses 

busied  yourself  about  for  the  last  two  days.  Cer 
tain  facts  which  have  come  to  light  would  seem  to 
show  that  if  she  had  a  husband  at  all,  his  name 
would  not  be  Thomas  Adams,  but  Felix,  and  as 
the  facts  I  have  to  bring  forward  are  most  direct 
and  unimpeachable,  I  fear  you  will  have  to  start 
again,  and  on  a  new  tack. " 

But  Sweetwater  remained  unshaken,  and  eyed  his 
superior  with  a  vague  smile  playing  about  his  lips. 

"  You  have  not  asked  me,  sir,  where  I  have  spent 
all  the  time  which  has  elapsed  since  I  saw  you  last. 
The  investigations  I  have  mentioned  did  not  absorb 
more  than  a  day." 

"Very  true.  Where  have  you  been,  Sweet- 
water?  " 

"  To  Montgomery,  sir,  to  that  small  town  in 
Pennsylvania  from  which  Mr.  Poindexter  and  his 
daughter  registered." 

"Ah,  I  see!  And  what  did  you  learn  there? 
Something  directly  to  the  point  ?  " 

"I  learned  this,  that  John  Poindexter,  father 
of  Eva,  had  for  a  friend  in  early  life  one  Amos 
Cadwalader." 

"  Amos  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Gryce,  with  an  odd  look. 

"  Yes,  and  that  this  Amos  had  a  son,  Felix. " 

"Ah!" 

9  I31 


The  Circular  Study 

"You  see,  sir,  we  must  be  on  the  right  track; 
coincidences  cannot  extend  through  half  a  dozen 
names." 

"  You  are  right.  It  is  I  who  have  made  a  mis 
take  in  drawing  my  conclusions  too  readily.  Let 
us  hear  about  this  Amos.  You  gathered  some 
thing  of  his  history,  no  doubt." 

"  All  that  was  possible,  sir.  It  is  closely  woven 
in  with  that  of  Poindexter,  and  presents  one  feat 
ure  which  may  occasion  you  no  surprise,  but  which^ 
I  own,  came  near  nonplussing  me.  Though  the 
father  of  Felix,  his  name  was  not  Adams.  I  say 
was  not,  for  he  has  been  dead  six  months.  It  was 
Cadwalader.  And  Felix  went  by  the  name  of 
Cadwalader,  too,  in  the  early  days  of  which  I  have 
to  tell,  he  and  a  sister  whose  name " 

"Well?" 

"  Was  Evelyn. " 

"  Sweetwater,  you  are  an  admirable  fellow.  So 
the  mystery  is  ours. " 

"  The  history,  not  the  mystery ;  that  still  holds. 
Shall  I  relate  what  I  know  of  those  two  families?  " 

"  At  once :  I  am  as  anxious  as  if  I  were  again 
twenty-three  and  had  been  in  your  shoes  instead 
of  my  own  for  the  last  three  days." 

"Very  well,  sir.     John   Poindexter  and  Amos 
132 


Bride  Roses 

Cadwalader  were,  in  their  early  life,  bosom 
friends.  They  had  come  from  Scotland  together 
and  settled  in  Montgomery  in  the  thirties.  Both 
married  there,  but  John  Poindexter  was  a  prosper 
ous  man  from  the  first,  while  Cadwalader  had  little 
ability  to  support  a  family,  and  was  on  the  verge 
of  bankruptcy  when  the  war  of  the  rebellion  broke 
out  and  he  enlisted  as  a  soldier.  Poindexter  re 
mained  at  home,  caring  for  his  own  family  and  for 
the  two  children  of  Cadwalader,  whom  he  took  into 
his  own  house.  I  say  his  own  family,  but  he  had 
no  family,  save  a  wife,  up  to  the  spring  of  '80. 
Then  a  daughter  was  born  to  him,  the  Eva  who 
has  just  married  Thomas  Adams.  Cadwalader, 
who  was  fitted  for  army  life,  rose  to  be  a  captain; 
but  he  was  unfortunately  taken  prisoner  at  one  of 
the  late  battles  and  confined  in  Libby  Prison, 
where  he  suffered  the  tortures  of  the  damned  till 
he  was  released,  in  1865,  by  a  forced  exchange  of 
prisoners.  Broken,  old,  and  crushed,  he  returned 
home,  and  no  one  living  in  the  town  at  that  time 
will  ever  forget  the  day  he  alighted  from  the  cars 
and  took  his  way  up  the  main  street.  For  not 
having  been  fortunate  enough,  or  unfortunate 
enough,  perhaps,  to  receive  any  communication 
from  home,  he  advanced  with  a  cheerful  haste, 


The  Circular  Study 

not  knowing  that  his  only  daughter  then  lay  dead 
in  his  friend's  house,  and  that  it  was  for  her  fu 
neral  that  the  people  were  collecting  in  the  green 
square  at  the  end  of  the  street.  He  was  so  pale, 
broken,  and  decrepit  that  few  knew  him.  But 
there  was  one  old  neighbor  who  recognized  him 
and  was  kind  enough  to  lead  him  into  a  quiet 
place,  and  there  tell  him  that  he  had  arrived  just  too 
late  to  see  his  darling  daughter  alive.  The  shock, 
instead  of  prostrating  the  old  soldier,  seemed  to 
nerve  him  afresh  and  put  new  vigor  into  his  limbs. 
He  proceeded,  almost  on  a  run,  to  Poindexter's 
house,  and  arrived  just  as  the  funeral  cortege  was 
issuing  from  the  door.  And  now  happened  a 
strange  thing.  The  young  girl  had  been  laid  on 
an  open  bier,  and  was  being  carried  by  six  sturdy 
lads  to  her  last  resting  place.  As  the  father's  eye 
fell  on  her  young  body  under  its  black  pall,  a  cry 
of  mortal  anguish  escaped  him,  and  he  sank  on  his 
knees  right  in  the  line  of  the  procession. 

"  At  the  same  minute  another  cry  went  up,  this 
time  from  behind  the  bier,  and  John  Poindexter 
could  be  seen  reeling  at  the  side  of  Felix  Cadwal- 
ader,  who  alone  of  all  present  (though  he  was  the 
youngest  and  the  least)  seemed  to  retain  his  self- 
possession  at  this  painful  moment.  Meanwhile 


Bride  Roses 

the  bereaved  father,  throwing  himself  at  the  side 
of  the  bier,  began  tearing  away  at  the  pall  in  his 
desire  to  look  upon  the  face  of  her  he  had  left  in 
such  rosy  health  four  years  before.  But  he  was 
stopped,  not  by  Poindexter,  who  had  vanished  from 
the  scene,  but  by  Felix,  the  cold,  severe-looking 
boy  who  stood  like  a  guard  behind  his  sister. 
Reaching  out  a  hand  so  white  it  was  in  itself  a 
shock,  he  laid  it  in  a  certain  prohibitory  way  on 
the  pall,  as  if  saying  no.  And  when  his  father 
would  have  continued  the  struggle,  it  was  Felix 
who  controlled  him  and  gradually  drew  him  into 
the  place  at  his  own  side  where  a  minute  before 
the  imposing  figure  of  Poindexter  had  stood;  after 
which  the  bearers  took  up  their  burden  again  and 
moved  on. 

"  But  the  dramatic  scene  was  not  over.  As  they 
neared  the  churchyard  another  procession,  similar 
in  appearance  to  their  own,  issued  from  an  adjoin 
ing  street,  and  Evelyn's  young  lover,  who  had  died 
almost  simultaneously  with  herself,  was  brought  in 
and  laid  at  her  side.  But  not  in  the  same  grave  : 
this  was  noticed  by  all,  though  most  eyes  and 
hearts  were  fixed  upon  Cadwalader,  who  had  es 
caped  his  loathsome  prison  and  returned  to  the 
place  of  his  affections  for  this. 


The  Circular  Study 

"Whether  he  grasped  then  and  there  the  full 
meaning  of  this  double  burial  (young  Kissam  had 
shot  himself  upon  hearing  of  Evelyn's  death),  or 
whether  all  explanations  were  deferred  till  he  and 
Felix  walked  away  together  from  the  grave,  has 
never  transpired.  From  that  minute  till  they  both 
left  town  on  the  following  day,  no  one  had  any  word 
with  him,  save  Poindexter,  whom  he  went  once  to 
see,  and  young  Kissam 's  mother,  who  came  once 
to  see  him.  Like  a  phantom  he  had  risen  upon 
the  sight  of  the  good  people  of  Montgomery,  and 
like  a  phantom  he  disappeared,  never  to  be  seen  by 
any  of  them  again,  unless,  as  many  doubt,  the 
story  is  true  which  was  told  some  twenty  years  ago 
by  one  of  the  little  village  lads.  He  says  (it  was 
six  years  after  the  tragic  scene  I  have  just  related) 
that  one  evening  as  he  was  hurrying  by  the  church 
yard,  in  great  anxiety  to  reach  home  before  it  was 
too  dark,  he  came  upon  the  figure  of  a  man  stand 
ing  beside  a  grave,  with  a  little  child  in  his  arms. 
This  man  was  tall,  long-bearded,  and  terrifying. 
His  attitude,  as  the  lad  describes  it,  was  one  of 
defiance,  if  not  of  cursing.  High  in  his  right 
hand  he  held  the  child,  almost  as  if  he  would  hurl 
him  at  the  village  which  lies  under  the  hill  on 
which  the  churchyard  is  perched ;  and  though  the 
136 


Bride  Roses 

moment  passed  quickly,  the  boy,  now  a  man,  never 
has  forgotten  the  picture  thus  presented  or  ad 
mitted  that  it  was  anything  but  a  real  one.  As 
the  description  he  gave  of  this  man  answered  to 
the  appearance  of  Amos  Cadwalader*  and  as  the 
shoe  of  a  little  child  was  found  next  morning  on 
the  grave  of  Cadwalader's  daughter,  Evelyn,  it  has 
been  thought  by  many  that  the  boy  really  beheld 
this  old  soldier,  who  for  some  mysterious  reason 
had  chosen  nightfall  for  this  fleeting  visit  to  his 
daughter's  resting-place.  But  to  others  it  was 
only  a  freak  of  the  lad's  imagination,  which  had 
been  much  influenced  by  the  reading  of  romances. 
For,  as  these  latter  reasoned,  had  it  really  been 
Cadwalader,  why  did  he  not  show  himself  at  John 
Poindexter's  house — that  old  friend  who  now  had 
a  little  daughter  and  no  wife  and  who  could  have 
made  him  so  comfortable?  Among  these  was 
Poindexter  himself,  though  some  thought  he  looked 
oddly  while  making  this  remark,  as  if  he  spoke 
more  from  custom  than  from  the  heart.  Indeed, 
since  the  unfortunate  death  of  Evelyn  in  his 
house,  he  had  never  shown  the  same  interest  in 
the  Cadwaladers.  But  then  he  was  a  man  much 
occupied  with  great  affairs,  while  the  Cadwala 
ders,  except  for  their  many  griefs  and  misfortunes, 


The  Circular  Study 

were  regarded  as  comparatively  insignificant  peo 
ple,  unless  we  except  Felix,  who  from  his  earliest 
childhood  had  made  himself  feared  even  by  grown 
people,  though  he  never  showed  a  harsh  spirit  or 
exceeded  the  bounds  of  decorum  in  speech  or  ges 
ture.  A  year  ago  news  came  to  Montgomery  of 
Amos  Cadwalader's  death,  but  no  particulars  con 
cerning  his  family  or  burial  place.  And  that  is 
all  I  have  been  able  to  glean  concerning  the  Cad- 
waladers. " 

Mr.  Gryce  had  again  become  thoughtful. 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  believe  that  Evelyn's 
death  was  not  a  natural  one  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  interviewed  the  old  mother  of  the 
young  man  who  shot  himself  out  of  grief  at  Evelyn's 
approaching  death,  and  if  any  doubt  had  existed 
concerning  a  matter  which  had  driven  her  son  to 
a  violent  end,  she  could  not  have  concealed  it  from 
me.  But  there  seemed  to  have  been  none. 
Evelyn  Cadwalader  was  always  of  delicate  health, 
and  when  a  quick  consumption  carried  her  off  no 
one  marvelled.  Her  lover,  who  adored  her,  sim 
ply  could  not  live  without  her,  so  he  shot  him 
self.  There  was  no  mystery  about  the  tragic  oc 
currence  except  that  it  seemed  to  sever  an  old 

friendship  that  once  was  firm  as  a  rock.     I  allude 
138 


Bride  Roses 

to  that  between  the  Poindexters  and  Cadwala- 
ders." 

"Yet  in  this  tragedy  which  has  just  occurred  in 
— —  Street  we  see  them  brought  together  again. 
Thomas  Adams  marries  Eva  Poindexter.  But 
who  is  Thomas  Adams  ?  You  have  not  mentioned 
him  in  this  history." 

"  Not  unless  he  was  the  child  who  was  held  aloft 
over  Evelyn's  grave." 

"  Humph !  That  seems  rather  far-fetched. 
What  did  you  learn  about  him  in  Montgomery  ? 
Is  he  known  there  ?  " 

"  As  well  as  any  stranger  can  be  who  spends  his 
time  in  courting  a  young  girl.  He  came  to  Mont 
gomery  a  few  months  ago,  from  some  foreign  city 
— Paris,  I  think — and,  being  gifted  with  every 
personal  charm  calculated  to  please  a  cultivated 
young  woman,  speedily  won  the  affections  of  Eva 
Poindexter,  and  also  the  esteem  of  her  father. 
But  their  favorable  opinion  is  not  shared  by  every 
one  in  the  town.  There  are  those  who  have  a 
good  deal  to  say  about  his  anxious  and  unsettled 
eye." 

"  Naturally ;  he  could  not  marry  all  their  daugh 
ters.  But  this  history  you  have  given  me :  it  is 
meagre,  Sweetwater,  and  while  it  hints  at  some- 


The  Circular  Study 

thing  deeply  tragic,  does  not  supply  the  key  we 
want.  A  girl  who  died  some  thirty  years  ago !  A 
father  who  disappeared !  A  brother  who,  from  be 
ing  a  Cadwalader,  has  become  an  Adams !  An  Eva 
whose  name,  as  well  as  that  of  the  long-buried 
Evelyn,  was  to  be  heard  in  constant  repetition 
in  the  place  where  the  murdered  Felix  lay  with 
those  inscrutable  lines  in  his  own  writing,  clinched 
between  his  teeth  !  It  is  a  snarl,  a  perfect  snarl, 
of  which  we  have  as  yet  failed  to  pull  the  right 
thread.  But  we'll  get  hold  of  it  yet.  I'm  not 
going  to  be  baffled  in  my  old  age  by  difficulties  I 
would  have  laughed  at  a  dozen  years  ago. " 

"  But  this  right  thread  ?  How  shall  we  know  it 
among  the  fifty  I  see  entangled  in  this  matter? " 

"First,  find  the  whereabouts  of  this  young 
couple — but  didn't  you  tell  me  you  had  done  so; 
that  you  know  where  they  are?  " 

"  Yes.  I  learned  from  the  postmaster  in  Mont 
gomery  that  a  letter  addressed  to  Mrs.  Thomas 
Adams  had  been  sent  from  his  post-office  to  Belle 
ville,  Long  Island." 

"  Ah  !  I  know  that  place." 

"  And  wishing  to  be  assured  that  the  letter  was 
not  a  pretense,  I  sent  a  telegram  to  the  postmaster 

at  Belleville.     Here  is  his  answer.     It  is  unequiv- 
140 


Bride  Roses 

ocal :  '  Mr.  Poindexter  of  Montgomery,  Pa.  Mr. 
Thomas  Adams  and  Mrs.  Adams  of  the  same  place 
have  been  at  the  Bedell  House  in  this  place  five 
days. ' " 

"  Very  good ;  then  we  have  them  !  Be  ready  to 
start  for  Belleville  by  one  o'clock  sharp.  And 
mind,  Sweetwater,  keep  your  wits  alert  and  your 
tongue  still.  Remember  that  as  yet  we  are  feel 
ing  our  way  blindfold,  and  must  continue  to  do  so 
till  some  kind  hand  tears  away  the  bandage  from 
our  eyes.  Go !  I  have  a  letter  to  write,  for  which 
you  may  send  in  a  boy  at  the  end  of  five  min 
utes." 

This  letter  was  for  Miss  Butterworth,  and  cre 
ated,  a  half- hour  later, 'quite  a  stir  in  the  fine  old 
mansion  in  Gramercy  Park.  It  ran  thus : 

Have  you  sufficient  interest  in  the  outcome  of  a 
certain  matter  to  take  a  short  journey  into  the 
country?  I  leave  town  at  i  P.M.  for  Belleville, 
Long  Island.  If  you  choose  to  do  the  same,  you 
will  find  me  at  the  Bedell  House,  in  that  town, 
early  in  the  afternoon.  If  you  enjoy  novels,  take 
one  with  you,  and  let  me  see  you  reading  it  on  the 
hotel  piazza  at  five  o'clock.  I  may  be  reading 
too ;  if  so,  and  my  choice  is  a  book,  all  is  well, 
and  you  may  devour  your  story  in  peace.  But  if 
I  lay  aside  my  book  and  take  up  a  paper,  devote 
but  one  eye  to  your  story  and  turn  the  other  on 
141 


The  Circular  Study 

the  people  who  are  passing  you.  If  after  you 
have  done  so,  you  leave  your  book  open,  I  shall 
understand  that  you  fail  to  recognize  these  per 
sons.  But  if  you  shut  the  volume,  you  may  expect 
to  see  me  also  fold  up  my  newspaper ;  for  by  so 
doing  you  will  have  signaled  me  that  you  have 
identified  the  young  man  and  woman  you  saw  leav 
ing  Mr.  Adams's  house  on  the  fatal  afternoon  of 
your  first  entrance.  E.  G. 


142 


CHAPTER    XL 

MISERY. 

IT  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  well-dressed  lady  of 
uncertain  age  who  was  to  be  seen  late  that  after 
noon  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  hotel  piazza  at  Belle 
ville  had  not  chosen  a  tale  requiring  great  concen 
tration  of  mind,  for  her  eyes  (rather  fine  ones  in 
their  way,  showing  both  keenness  and  good  nature) 
seemed  to  find  more  to  interest  them  in  the  scene 
before  her  than  in  the  pages  she  so  industriously 
turned  over. 

The  scene  was  one  calculated  to  interest  an  idle 
mind,  no  doubt.  First,  there  was  the  sea,  a  wide 
expanse  of  blue,  dotted  by  numerous  sails;  then 
the  beach,  enlivened  by  groups  of  young  people 
dressed  like  popinjays  in  every  color;  then  the 
village  street,  and,  lastly,  a  lawn  over  which  there 
now  and  then  strayed  young  couples  with  tennis 
rackets  in  their  hands  or  golf  sticks  under  their 
arms.  Children,  too — but  children  did  not  seem 
to  interest  this  amiable  spinster.  (There  could  be 


The  Circular  Study 

no  doubt  about  her  being  a  spinster.)  She  scarce 
ly  glanced  at  them  twice,  while  a  young  married 
pair,  or  even  an  old  gentleman,  if  he  were  only  tall 
and  imperious-looking,  invariably  caused  her  eyes 
to  wander  from  her  book,  which,  by  the  way,  she 
held  too  near  for  seeing,  or  such  might  have  been 
the  criticism  of  a  wary  observer. 

This  criticism,  if  criticism  it  would  be  called, 
could  not  have  been  made  of  the  spruce,  but  rather 
feeble  octogenarian  at  the  other  end  of  the  piazza. 
He  was  evidently  absorbed  in  the  novel  he  held  so 
conspicuously  open,  and  .which,  from  the  smiles  now 
and  then  disturbing  the  usual  placidity  of  his  benev 
olent  features,  we  can  take  for  granted  was  suffi 
ciently  amusing.  Yet  right  in  the  midst  of  it,  and 
certainly  before  he  had  finished  his  chapter,  he 
closed  his  book  and  took  out  a  newspaper,  which 
he  opened  to  its  full  width  before  sitting  down  to 
peruse  its  columns.  At  the  same  moment  the  lady 
at  the  other  end  of  the  piazza  could  be  seen  look 
ing  over  her  spectacles  at  two  gentlemen  who  just 
at  that  moment  issued  from  the  great  door  opening 
between  her  and  the  elderly  person  just  alluded  to. 
Did  she  know  them,  or  was  it  only  her  curiosity 
that  was  aroused?  From  the  way  she  banged  to 
gether  her  book  and  rose,  it  looked  as  if  she  had 
144 


Misery 

detected  old  acquaintances  in  the  distinguished- 
looking  pair  who  were  now  advancing  s?owly  tow 
ard  her.  But  if  so,  she  could  not  have  been  over 
joyed  to  see  them,  for  after  the  first  hint  of  their 
approach  in  her  direction  she  turned,  with  an 
aspect  of  some  embarrassment,  and  made  her  way 
out  upon  the  lawn,  where  she  stood  with  her  back 
to  these  people,  caressing  a  small  dog  in  a  way 
that  betrayed  her  total  lack  of  sympathy  with  these 
animals,  which  were  evidently  her  terror  when  she 
was  sufficiently  herself  to  be  swayed  by  her  natural 
impulses. 

The  two  gentlemen,  on  the  contrary,  with  an  air 
of  total  indifference  to  her  proximity,  continued 
their  walk  until  they  reached  the  end  of  the  piazza, 
and  then  turned  and  proceeded  mechanically  to 
retrace  their  steps. 

Their  faces  now  being  brought  within  view  of 
the  elderly  person  who  was  so  absorbed  in  his 
newspaper,  the  latter  shifted  that  sheet  the  merest 
trifle,  possibly  because  the  sun  struck  his  eyes  too 
directly,  possibly  because  he  wished  to  catch  sight 
of  two  very  remarkable  men.  If  so,  the  opportu 
nity  was  good,  as  they  stopped  within  a  few  feet  of 
his  chair.  One  of  them  was  elderly,  as  old  as,  if 

not  older  than,  the   man  watching  him;    but  he 
10  145 


The  Circular  Study 

was  of  that  famous  Scotch  stock  whose  members 
are  tough  and  hale  at  eighty.  This  toughness  he 
showed  not  only  in  his  figure,  which  was  both  up 
right  and  graceful,  but  in  the  glance  of  his  calm, 
cold  eye,  which  fell  upon  everybody  and  everything 
unmoved,  while  that  of  his  young,  but  equally  stal 
wart  companion  seemed  to  shrink  with  the  most 
acute  sensitiveness  from  every  person  he  met,  save 
the  very  mild  old  reader  of  news  near  whom  they 
now  paused  for  a  half-dozen  words  of  conversation. 

"  I  don't  think  it  does  me  any  good,"  was  the 
young  man's  gloomy  remark.  "  I  am  wretched 
when  with  her,  and  doubly  wretched  when  I  try  to 
forget  myself  for  a  moment  out  of  her  sight.  I 
think  we  had  better  go  back.  I  had  rather  sit 
where  she  can  see  me  than  have  her  wonder — Oh, 
I  will  be  careful;  but  you  must  remember  how 
unnerving  is  the  very  silence  I  am  obliged  to  keep 
about  what  is  destroying  us  all.  I  am  nearly  as 
ill  as  she." 

Here  they  drew  off,  and  their  apparently  disin 
terested  hearer  turned  the  page  of  his  paper.  It 
was  five  minutes  before  they  came  back.  This 
time  it  was  the  old  gentleman  who  was  speaking, 
and  as  he  was  more  discreet  than  his  companion, 

or  less  under  the  influence  of  his  feelings,  his 
146 


Misery 

voice  was  lower  and  his  words  less  easy  to  be  dis 
tinguished. 

"  Escape  ?  South  coast — she  will  forget  to 
watch  you  for — a  clinging  nature — impetuous,  but 
foolishly  affectionate — you  know  that — no  danger 
— found  out — time — a  cheerful  home — courage — 
happiness — all  forgotten." 

A  gesture  from  the  young  man  as  he  moved 
away  showed  that  he  did  not  share  these  hopes. 
Meanwhile  Miss  Butterworth — you  surely  have 
recognized  Miss  Butterworth — had  her  opportuni 
ties  too.  She  was  still  stooping  over  the  dog, 
which  wriggled  under  her  hand,  yet  did  not  offer 
to  run  away,  fascinated  perhaps  by  that  hesitating 
touch  which  he  may  or  may  not  have  known  had 
never  inflicted  itself  upon  a  dog  before.  But  her 
ears,  and  attention,  were  turned  toward  two  girls 
chatting  on  a  bench  near  her  as  freely  as  if  they 
were  quite  alone  on  the  lawn.  They  were  gossip  - 
ping  about  a  fellow-inmate  of  the  big  hotel,  and 
Miss  Butterworth  listened  intently  after  hearing 
them  mention  the  name  Adams.  These  are  some 
of  the  words  she  caught : 

"  But  she  is !  I  tell  you  she  is  sick  enough  to 
have  a  nurse  and  a  doctor.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 

her  as  I  was  going  by  her  room  yesterday,  and  I 
10  I47 


The  Circular  Study 

never  saw  two  such  big  eyes  or  such  pale  cheeks. 
Then,  look  at  him!  He  must  just  adore  her,  for 
he  won't  speak  to  another  woman,  and  just  moves 
about  in  that  small,  hot  room  all  day.  I  wonder 
if  they  are  bride  and  groom?  They  are  young 
enough,  and  if  you  have  noticed  her  clothes 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  about  clothes.  I  saw  her  the 
first  day  she  came,  and  was  the  victim  of  despair 
until  she  suddenly  got  sick  and  so  couldn't  wear 
those  wonderful  waists  and  jackets.  I  felt  like  a 
dowdy  when  I  saw  that  pale  blue " 

"  Oh,  well,  blue  becomes  blondes.  You  would 
look  like  a  fright  in  it.  I  didn't  care  about  her 
clothes,  but  I  did  feel  that  it  was  all  up  with  us  if 
she  chose  to  talk,  or  even  to  smile,  upon  the  few 
men  that  are  good  enough  to  stay  out  a  week  in 
this  place.  Yet  she  isn't  a  beauty ;  she  has  not 
a  good  nose,  nor  a  handsome  eye,  nor  even  an  ir 
reproachable  complexion.  It  must  be  her  mouth, 
which  is  lovely,  or  her  walk — did  you  notice  her 
walk?  It  was  just  as  if  she  were  floating;  that 
is,  before  she  fell  down  in  that  faint.  I  wonder 
why  she  fainted.  Nobody  was  doing  anything, 
not  even  her  husband.  But  perhaps  that  was 
what  troubled  her.  I  noticed  that  for  some  cause 

he  was  looking  very  serious — and  when  she  had 
148 


Misery 

tried  to  attract  his  attention  two  or  three  times 
and  failed,  she  just  fell  from  her  chair  to  the  floor. 
That  roused  him.  He  has  hardly  left  her  since." 

"  I  don't  think  they  look  very  happy,  do  you,  for 
so  rich  and  handsome  a  couple  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  he  is  dissipated.  I  have  noticed  that 
the  old  gentleman  never  leaves  them. " 

"Well,  well,  he  may  be  dissipated;  handsome 
men  are  very  apt  to  be.  But  I  wouldn't  care 
if " 

Here  the  dog  gave  a  yelp  and  bolted.  Miss 
Butterworth  had  unconsciously  pinched  him,  in 
her  indignation,  possibly,  at  the  turn  these  rattle- 
pated  young  ladies'  conversation  was  taking.  This 
made  a  diversion,  and  the  young  girls  moved  off, 
leaving  Miss  Butterworth  without  occupation. 
But  a  young  man  who  at  that  moment  crossed 
her  path  gave  her  enough  to  think  about. 

"  You  recognize  them  ?  There  is  no  mistake  ?  " 
he  whispered. 

"  None ;  the  one  this  way  is  the  young  man  I 
saw  leave  Mr.  Adams's  house,  and  the  other  is  the 
old  gentleman  who  came  in  afterward." 

"Mr.  Gryce  advises  you  to  return  home.  He 
is  going  to  arrest  the  young  man."  And  Sweet- 
water  passed  on. 

149 


The  Circular  Study 

Miss  Butterworth  strolled  to  a  seat  and  sat  down. 
She  felt  weak ;  she  seemed  to  see  that  young  wife, 
sick,  overwhelmed,  struggling  with  her  great  fear, 
sink  under  this  crushing  blow,  with  no  woman 
near  her  capable  of  affording  the  least  sympathy. 
The  father  did  not  impress  her  as  being  the  man 
to  hold  up  her  fainting  head  or  ease  her  bruised 
heart.  He  had  an  icy  look  under  his  polished  ex- 
terior  which  repelled  this  keen-eyed  spinster,  and 
as  she  remembered  the  coldness  of  his  ways,  she 
felt  herself  seized  by  an  irresistible  impulse  to  be 
near  this  young  creature  when  the  blow  fell,  if 
only  to  ease  the  tension  of  her  own  heartstrings, 
which  at  that  moment  ached  keenly  over  the  part 
she  had  felt  herself  obliged  to  play  in  this  matter. 

But  when  she  rose  to  look  for  Mr.  Gryce,  she 
found  him  gone;  and  upon  searching  the  piazza 
for  the  other  two  gentlemen,  she  saw  them  just 
vanishing  round  the  corner  in  the  direction  of  a 
small  smoking-room.  As  she  could  not  follow 
them,  she  went  upstairs,  and,  meeting  a  maid  in 
the  upper  hall,  asked  for  Mrs.  Adams.  She  was 
told  that  Mrs.  Adams  was  sick,  but  was  shown  the 
door  of  her  room,  which  was  at  the  end  of  a  long 
hall.  As  all  the  halls  terminated  in  a  window 
under  which  a  sofa  was  to  be  found,  she  felt  that 


Misery 

circumstances  were  in  her  favor,  and  took  her  seat 
upon  the  sofa  before  her  in  a  state  of  great  compla 
cency.  Instantly  a  sweet  voice  was  heard  through 
the  open  transom  of  the  door  behind  which  her 
thoughts  were  already  concentrated. 

"Where  is  Tom?  Oh,  where  is  Tom?  Why 
does  he  leave  me  ?  I'm  afraid  of  what  he  may  be 
tempted  to  do  or  say  down  on  those  great  piazzas 
alone." 

"  Mr.  Poindexter  is  with  him,"  answered  a  voice, 
measured,  but  kind.  "Mr.  Adams  was  getting 
very  tired,  and  your  father  persuaded  him  to  go 
down  and  have  a  smoke." 

"  I  must  get  up ;  indeed  I  must  get  up.  Oh ! 
the  camphor — the " 

There  was  a  bustle ;  this  poor  young  wife  had 
evidently  fainted  again. 

Miss  Butterworth  cast  very  miserable  glances  at 
the  door. 

Meanwhile  in  that  small  and  retired  smoking- 
room  a  terrible  scene  was  in  progress.  The  two 
gentlemen  had  lit  their  cigars  and  were  sitting  in 
certain  forced  attitudes  that  evinced  their  non-en 
joyment  of  the  weed  each  had  taken  out  of  com 
plaisance  to  the  other,  when  an  old  man,  strangely 
serious,  strangely  at  home,  yet  as  strangely  a  guest 


The  Circular  Study 

of  the  house  like  themselves,  came  in,  and  shut  the 
door  behind  him. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  at  once  announced,  "I  am 
Detective  Gryce  of  the  New  York  police,  and  I  am 
here — but  I  see  that  one  of  you  at  least  knows 
why  I  am  here." 

One  ?  Both  of  them !  This  was  evident  in  a 
moment.  No  denial,  no  subterfuge  was  possible. 
At  the  first  word  uttered  in  the  strange,  authori 
tative  tone  which  old  detectives  acquire  after  years 
of  such  experiences,  the  young  man  sank  down 
in  sudden  collapse,  while  his  companion,  without 
yielding  so  entirely  to  his  emotions,  showed  that 
he  was  not  insensible  to  the  blow  which,  in  one 
moment,  had  brought  destruction  to  all  their 
hopes. 

When  Mr.  Gryce  saw  himself  so  completely 
understood,  he  no  longer  hesitated  over  his  duty. 
Directing  his  full  attention  to  Mr.  Adams,  he 
said,  this  time  with  some  feeling,  for  the  misery 
of  this  young  man  had  impressed  him : 

"You  are  wanted  in  New  York  by  Coroner 

D ,  whose  business  it  is  to  hold  an  inquest 

over  the  remains  of  Mr.  Felix  Adams,  of  whose 

astonishing  death  you  are  undoubtedly  informed. 

As  you  and  your  wife  were  seen  leaving  that  gen- 

I52 


Misery 

tleman's  house  a  few  minutes  before  he  expired, 
you  are  naturally  regarded  as  valuable  witnesses 
in  determining  whether  his  death  was  one  of  sui 
cide  or  murder." 

It  was  an  accusation,  or  so  nearly  one,  that  Mr. 
Gryce  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  behold  the  dark 
flush  of  shame  displace  the  livid  terror  which  but 
an  instant  before  had  made  the  man  before  him 
look  like  one  of  those  lost  spirits  we  sometimes 
imagine  as  flitting  across  the  open  mouth  of  hell. 
But  he  said  nothing,  seemingly  had  no  power  to 
do  so,  and  his  father-in-law  was  about  to  make 
some  effort  to  turn  aside  this  blow  when  a  voice 
in  the  hall  outside  was  heard  inquiring  for  Mr. 
Adams,  saying  that  his  wife  had  fainted  again  and 
required  his  help. 

The  young  husband  started,  cast  a  look  full  of 
despair  at  Mr.  Poindexter,  and  thrusting  his  hand 
against  the  door  as  if  to  hold  it  shut,  sank  on  his 
knees  before  Mr.  Gryce,  saying : 

"  She  knows !  She  suspects !  Her  nature  is  so 
sensitive." 

This  he  managed  to  utter  in  gasps  as  the  detec 
tive  bent  compassionately  over  him.  "  Don't, 
don't  disturb  her !  She  is  an  angel,  a  saint  from 
heaven.  Let  me  bear  the  blame — he  was  my 

'53 


The  Circular  Study 

brother — let  me   go  with  you,  but  leave  her   in 
ignorance " 

Mr.  Gryce,  with  a  vivid  sense  of  justice,  laid 
his  hand  on  the  young  man's  arm. 

"Say  nothing,"  he  enjoined.  "My  memory  is 
good,  and  I  would  rather  hear  nothing  from  your 
lips.  As  for  your  wife,  my  warrant  does  in  no 
way  include  her ;  and  if  you  promise  to  come  with 
me  quietly,  I  will  even  let  you  bid  her  adieu,  so 
that  you  do  it  in  my  presence." 

The  change  which  passed  over  the  young  man's 
face  at  these  significant  words  was  of  a  nature  to 
surprise  Mr.  Gryce.  Rising  slowly,  he  took  his 
stand  by  Mr.  Poindexter,  who,  true  to  his  inflex 
ible  nature,  had  scarcely  moved  in  limb  and  fea 
ture  since  Mr.  Gryce  came  in. 

"  What  have  you  against  me  ?  "  he  demanded. 
And  there  was  a  surprising  ring  to  his  voice,  as  if 
courage  had  come  with  the  necessity  of  the  mo 
ment.  "  Of  what  am  I  accused  ?  I  want  you  to 
tell  me.  I  had  rather  you  would  tell  me  in  so 
many  words.  I  cannot  leave  in  peace  until  you 
do." 

Mr.  Poindexter  made  a  movement  at  this,  and 
cast  a  half-suspicious,  half-warning  glance  at  his 
son-in-law.  But  the  young  man  took  no  notice 


Misery 

of  his  interference.  He  kept  his  eye  on  the  de« 
tective,  who  quietly  took  out  his  warrant. 

At  this  instant  the  door  shook. 

"  Lock  it !  "  was  the  hoarse  command  of  the  ac 
cused  man.  "  Don't  let  any  one  pass  that  door, 
even  if  it  is  to  bring  the  tidings  of  my  wife's 
death." 

Mr.  Gryce  reached  out  his  hand,  and  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock.  Young  Adams  opened  the  paper 
which  he  had  taken  from  the  detective's  hand,  and 
while  his  blood-shot  eyes  vainly  sought  to  master 
the  few  lines  there  written,  Mr.  Poindexter  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  Mr.  Gryce,  and,  fixing  him 
with  his  eye,  formed  his  lips  with  three  soundless 
words : 

"For  murder?     Him?" 

The  detective's  bow  and  a  very  long-drawn  sigh 
from  his  son-in-law  answered  him  simultaneously. 
With  a  curious  lift  of  his  upper  lip,  which  showed 
his  teeth  somewhat  unpleasantly  for  a  moment,  he 
drew  back  a  step,  and  sank  into  his  previous  im 
mobility. 

"  I  am  indebted  to  you,"  declared  the  young 
man.  "  Now  I  know  where  I  stand.  I  am  quite 
ready  to  go  with  you  and  stand  trial,  if  such  be 
deemed  necessary  by  the  officials  in  New  York. 


The  Circular  Study 

You,"  he  cried,  turning  with  almost  an  air  of 
command  to  the  old  gentleman  beside  him,  "  will 
watch  over  Eva.  Not  like  a  father,  sir,  but  like  a 
mother.  You  will  be  at  her  side  when  she  wakes, 
and,  if  possible,  leave  her  only  when  she  sleeps. 
Do  not  let  her  suffer — not  too  much.  No  news 
papers,  no  gossiping  women.  Watch  !  watch  !  as 
I  would  watch,  and  when  I  come  back — for  I  will 
come  back,  will  I  not?  "  he  appealed  to  Mr.  Gryce, 

"  my  prayers  will  bless  you  and "  A  sob  stuck 

in  his  throat,  and  he  turned  for  a  minute  aside; 
then  he  took  the  detective's  arm  quite  calmly  and 
remarked : 

"  I  do  not  want  to  say  good- by  to  my  wife.  I 
cannot  bear  it.  I  had  rather  go  straight  from  here 
without  another  glance  at  her  unconscious  face. 
When  I  have  told  my  story,  for  I  shall  tell  it  to 
the  first  man  who  asks  me,  I  may  find  courage  to 
write  her.  Meanwhile,  get  me  away  as  quickly  as 
you  can.  Time  enough  for  the  world  to  know  my 
shame  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Gryce  tapped  on  the  window  overlooking 
the  piazza.  A  young  man  stepped  in. 

"Here  is  a  gentleman,"  he  cried,  "who  finds 
himself  forced  to  return  in  great  haste  to  New 
York.  See  that  he  gets  to  the  train  in  time, 
156 


Misery 

without  fuss  and  without  raising  the  least  com 
ment.  I  will  follow  with  his  portmanteau.  Mr. 
Poindexter,  you  are  now  at  liberty  to  attend  your 
suffering  daughter."  And  with  a  turn  of  the  key, 
he  unlocked  the  door,  and  one  of  the  most  painful 
scenes  of  his  long  life  was  over. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THOMAS    EXPLAINS. 

MR.  GRYCE  was  not  above  employing  a  little 
finesse.  He  had  expressed  his  intention  of  follow 
ing  Mr.  Adams,  and  he  did  follow  him,  but  so  im 
mediately  that  he  not  only  took  the  same  train,  but 
sat  in  the  same  car.  He  wished  to  note  at  his 
leisure  the  bearing  of  this  young  man,  who  inter 
ested  him  in  quite  a  different  way  from  what  he 
had  anticipated,  a  way  that  vaguely  touched  his 
own  conscience  and  made  him  feel  his  years  as  he 
had  no  right  to  feel  them  when  he  had  just  brought 
to  an  end  an  intricate  and  difficult  pursuit. 

Seated  at  a  distance,  he  watched  with  increasing 
interest  the  changes  which  passed  over  his  prison 
er's  handsome  countenance.  He  noted  the  calm 
ness  which  now  marked  the  features  he  had  so 
lately  seen  writhing  in  deepest  agony,  and  won 
dered  from  what  source  the  strength  came  which 
enabled  this  young  man  to  sit  so  stoically  under 
the  eyes  of  people  from  whose  regard,  an  hour  be- 
158 


Thomas  Explains 

fore,  he  had  shrunk  with  such  apparent  suffering. 
Was  it  that  courage  comes  with  despair  ?  Or  was 
he  too  absorbed  in  his  own  misery  to  note  the 
shadow  it  cast  about  him  ?  His  brooding  brow 
and  vacant  eye  spoke  of  a  mind  withdrawn  from 
present  surroundings.  Into  what  depths  of  re 
morse,  who  could  say?  Certainly  not  this  old 
detective,  seasoned  though  he  was  by  lifelong  con 
tact  with  criminals,  some  of  them  of  the  same  so 
cial  standing  and  cultured  aspect  as  this  young 
man. 

At  the  station  in  Brooklyn  he  rejoined  his 
prisoner,  who  scarcely  looked  up  as  he  approached. 
In  another  hour  they  were  at  Police  Headquarters 
and  the  serious  questioning  of  Mr.  Adams  had 
begun. 

He  did  not  attempt  to  shirk  it.  Indeed,  he 
seemed  anxious  to  talk.  He  had  a  burden  on  his 
mind,  and  longed  to  throw  it  off.  But  the  burden 
was  not  of  the  exact  nature  anticipated  by  the 
police.  He  did  not  acknowledge  having  killed 
his  brother,  but  confessed  to  having  been  the  in 
cidental  cause  of  that  brother's  death.  The  story 
he  told  was  this : 

"  My  name  is  Cadwalader,  not  Adams.  My 
father,  a  Scotchman  by  birth,  was  a  naturalized 


The   Circular  Study 

citizen  of  Pennsylvania,  having  settled  in  a  place 
called  Montgomery  when  a  young  married  man. 
He  had  two  children  then,  one  of  whom  died  in 
early  life ;  the  other  was  my  brother  Felix,  whose 
violent  death  under  the  name  of  Adams  you  have 
called  me  here  to  explain.  I  am  the  fruit  of  a 
later  marriage,  entered  into  by  my  father  some 
years  after  leaving  Montgomery.  When  I  was 
born  he  was  living  in  Harrisburg,  but,  as  he  left 
there  shortly  after  I  had  reached  my  third  year,  I 
have  no  remembrances  connected  with  that  city. 
Indeed,  my  recollections  are  all  of  very  different 
scenes  than  this  country  affords.  My  mother 
having  died  while  I  was  still  an  infant,  I  was  sent 
very  early  in  life  to  the  Old  World,  from  which 
my  father  had  originally  come.  When  I  returned, 
which  was  not  till  this  very  year,  I  found  my 
father  dying,  and  my  brother  a  grown  man  with 
money — a  great  deal  of  money — which  I  had  been 
led  to  think  he  was  ready  to  share  with  me.  But 
after  my  father  was  laid  away,  Felix "  (with 
what  effort  he  uttered  that  name !)  "  Felix  came 
to  New  York,  and  I  was  left  to  wander  about 
without  settled  hopes  or  any  definite  promise  of 
means  upon  which  to  base  a  future  or  start  a  ca 
reer.  While  wandering,  I  came  upon  the  town 
160 


Thomas  Explains 

where  my  father  had  lived  in  early  youth,  and, 
hunting  up  his  old  friends,  I  met  in  the  house  of 
one  who  had  come  over  from  Scotland  with  my 
father  a  young  lady  "  (how  his  voice  shook,  and 
with  what  a  poignant  accent  he  uttered  that  be 
loved  name)  "  in  whom  I  speedily  became  inter 
ested  to  the  point  of  wishing  to  marry  her.  But 
I  had  no  money,  no  business,  no  home  to  give  her, 
and,  as  I  was  fain  to  acknowledge,  no  prospects. 
Still  I  could  not  give  up  the  hope  of  making  her 
my  wife.  So  I  wrote  to  my  brother,  Felix  Cad- 
walader,  or,  rather,  Felix  Adams,  as  he  preferred 
to  be  called  in  later  years  for  family  reasons  en 
tirely  disconnected  with  the  matter  of  his  sudden 
demise,  and,  telling  him  I  had  become  interested 
in  a  young  girl  of  good  family  and  some  wealth, 
asked  him  to  settle  upon  me  a  certain  sum  which 
would  enable  me  to  marry  her  with  some  feeling 
of  self-respect.  My  only  answer  was  a  repetition 
of  the  vague  promise  he  had  thrown  out  before. 
But  youth  is  hopeful,  even  to  daring,  and  I  decided 
to  make  her  mine  without  further  parley,  in  the 
hope  that  her  beauty  and  endearing  qualities  would 
win  from  him,  at  first  view,  the  definite  concession 
he  had  so  persistently  denied  me. 

"  This  I  did,  and  the  fault  with  which  I  have 
n  161 


The  Circular  Study 

most  to  reproach  myself  is  that  I  entered  into  this 
alliance  without  taking  her  or  her  father  into  my 
confidence.  They  thought  me  well  off,  possibly 
rich,  and  while  Mr.  Poindexter  is  a  man  of  means, 
I  am  sure,  if  he  had  known  I  had  nothing  but  the 
clothes  I  wore  and  the  merest  trifle  in  the  way  of 
pocket  money,  he  would  have  cried  halt  to  the 
marriage,  for  he  is  a  very  ambitious  man  and  con 
siders  his  daughter  well  worth  a  millionaire's  devo 
tion — as  she  is. 

"  Felix  (you  must  pardon  me  if  I  show  no  affec 
tion  for  my  brother — he  was  a  very  strange  man) 
was  notified  of  my  marriage,  but  did  not  choose  to 
witness  it,  neither  did  he  choose  to  prohibit  it ;  so 
it  was  conducted  quietly,  with  strangers  for  wit 
nesses,  in  a  hotel  parlor.  Then,  with  vague  hopes, 
as  well  as  certain  vague  fears,  I  prepared  to  take 
my  young  bride  into  the  presence  of  my  brother, 
who,  hardened  as  he  was  by  years  of  bachelorhood, 
could  not  be  so  entirely  impervious  to  feminine 
charms  as  not  to  recognize  my  wife  as  a  woman 
deserving  of  every  consideration. 

"  But  I  had  counted  without  my  host.  When, 
two  days  after  the  ceremony  which  had  made  us 
one,  I  took  her  to  the  house  which  has  since 

become  so  unhappily  notorious,  I  found  that  my 
162 


Thomas  Explains 

brother  had  but  shown  me  one  facet,  and  that  the 
least  obdurate,  of  his  many-sided  nature. 

"  Brilliant  as  steel,  he  was  as  hard,  and  not  only 
professed  himself  unmoved  by  my  wife's  many 
charms,  but  also  as  totally  out  of  sympathy  with 
such  follies  as  love  and  marriage,  which  were,  he 
said,  the  fruit  of  unoccupied  minds  and  a  pastime 
wholly  unworthy  of  men  boasting  of  such  talents 
and  attainments  as  ourselves.  Then  he  turned  his 
back  upon  us,  and  I,  moved  by  an  anger  little  short 
of  frenzy,  began  an  abuse  for  which  he  was  so  lit 
tle  prepared  that  he  crouched  like  a  man  under 
blows,  and,  losing  minute  by  minute  his  self-con 
trol,  finally  caught  up  a  dagger  lying  close  at  hand, 
and  crying,  '  You  want  my  money?  Well,  then, 
take  it ! '  stabbed  himself  to  the  heart  with  one 
desperate  blow. 

"  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  believed,  but  that  is  the 
story  of  this  crime,  gentlemen." 


IT 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

DESPAIR. 

WAS  it?  Tragedies  as  unpremeditated  as  this 
had  doubtless  occurred,  and  inconsistencies  in 
character  shown  themselves  in  similar  impetuosi 
ties,  from  the  beginning  of  time  up  till  now.  Yet 
there  was  not  a  man  present,  with  or  without  the 
memory  of  Bartow's  pantomime,  which,  as  you  will 
recall,  did  not  tally  at  all  with  this  account  of  Mr. 
Adams's  violent  end,  who  did  not  show  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree  his  distrust  and  evident  disbelief  in 
this  tale,  poured  out  with  such  volubility  before 
them. 

The  young  man,  gifted  as  he  was  with  the  keen 
est  susceptibilities,  perceived  this,  and  his  head 
drooped. 

"  I  shall  add  nothing  to  and  take  nothing  from 
what  I  have  said,"  was  his  dogged  remark. 
"  Make  of  it  what  you  will." 

The  inspector  who  was  conducting  the  inquiry 
164 


Despair 

glanced  dubiously  at  Mr.  Gryce  as  these  words  left 
Thomas  Adams's  lips;  whereupon  the  detective 
said : 

"We  are  sorry  you  have  taken  such  a  resolu 
tion.  There  are  many  things  yet  left  to  be  ex 
plained,  Mr.  Adams;  for  instance,  why,  if  your 
brother  slew  himself  in  this  unforeseen  manner, 
you  left  the  house  so  precipitately,  without  giving 
an  alarm  or  even  proclaiming  your  relationship  to 
him?" 

"  You  need  not  answer,  you  know,"  the  inspec 
tor's  voice  broke  in.  "  No  man  is  called  upon  to 
incriminate  himself  in  this  free  and  independent 
country. " 

A  smile,  the  saddest  ever  seen,  wandered  for  a 
minute  over  the  prisoner's  pallid  lips.  Then  he 
lifted  his  head  and  replied  with  a  certain  air  of 
desperation : 

"  Incrimination  is  not  what  I  fear  now.  From 
the  way  you  all  look  at  me  I  perceive  that  I 
am  lost,  for  I  have  no  means  of  proving  my 
story." 

This  acknowledgment,  which  might  pass  for  the 
despairing  cry  of  an  innocent  man,  made  his  inter 
rogator  stare. 

"You  forget,"  suggested  that  gentleman,  "that 
165 


The  Circular  Study 

you  had  your  wife  with  you.  She  can  corroborate 
your  words,  and  will  prove  herself,  no  doubt,  an 
invaluable  witness  in  your  favor." 

"  My  wife ! "  he  repeated,  choking  so  that 
his  words  could  be  barely  understood.  "  Must 
she  be  dragged  into  this — so  sick,  so  weak  a 
woman  ?  It  would  kill  her,  sir.  She  loves  me — 
she " 

"Was  she  with  you  in  Mr.  Adams's  study? 
Did  she  see  him  lift  the  dagger  against  his  own 
breast?" 

"  No."  And  with  this  denial  the  young  man 
seemed  to  take  new  courage.  "She  had  fainted 
several  moments  previously,  while  the  altercation 
between  my  brother  and  myself  was  at  its  height. 
She  did  not  see  the  final  act,  and — gentlemen,  I 
might  as  well  speak  the  truth  (I  have  nothing  to 
gain  by  silence),  she  finds  it  as  difficult  as  you  do 
to  believe  that  Mr.  Adams  struck  himself.  I — I 
have  tried  with  all  my  arts  to  impress  the  truth 
upon  her,  but  oh,  what  can  I  hope  from  the 
world  when  the  wife  of  my  bosom — an  angel,  too, 
who  loves  me — oh,  sirs,  she  can  never  be  a  wit 
ness  for  me ;  she  is  too  conscientious,  too  true  to 
her  own  convictions.  I  should  lose — she  would 

die " 

166 


Despair 

Mr.  Gryce  tried  to  stop  him ;  he  would  not  be 
stopped. 

"  Spare  me,  sirs !  Spare  my  wife !  Write  me 
down  guilty,  anything  you  please,  rather  than  force 
that  young  creature  to  speak " 

Here  the  inspector  cut  short  these  appeals  which 
were  rending  every  heart  present.  "  Have  you 
read  the  newspapers  for  the  last  few  days?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  ?  Yes,  yes,  sir.  How  could  I  help  it  ? 
Blood  is  blood;  the  man  was  my  brother;  I  had 
left  him  dying —  I  was  naturally  anxious,  natur 
ally  saw  my  own  danger,  and  I  read  them,  of 
ourse." 

"  Then  you  know  he  was  found  with  a  large  cross 
on  his  breast,  a  cross  which  was  once  on  the  wall. 
How  came  it  to  be  torn  down?  Who  put  it  on 
his  bosom  ? " 

"  I,  sir.  I  am  not  a  Catholic  but  Felix  was, 
and  seeing  him  dying  without  absolution,  without 
extreme  unction,  I  thought  of  the  holy  cross,  and 
tore  down  the  only  one  I  saw,  and  placed  it  in  his 
arms." 

"  A  pious  act.     Did  he  recognize  it?  " 

"  I  cannot  say.      I  had  my  fainting  wife  to  look 

after.     She  occupied  all  my  thoughts. " 
167 


The  Circular  Study 

"  I  see,  and  you  carried  her  out  and  were  so  ab 
sorbed  in  caring  for  her  you  did  not  observe  Mr. 
Adams's  valet " 

"  He's  innocent,  sir.  Whatever  people  may 
think,  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  this  crime ' 

"You  did  not  observe  him,  I  say,  standing  in 
the  doorway  and  watching  you  ?  " 

Now  the  inspector  knew  that  Bartow  had  not 
been  standing  there,  but  at  the  loophole  above; 
but  the  opportunity  for  entrapping  the  witness  was 
too  good  to  lose. 

Mr.  Adams  was  caught  in  the  trap,  or  so  one 
might  judge  from  the  beads  of  perspiration  which 
at  that  moment  showed  themselves  on  his  pale  fore 
head.  But  he  struggled  to  maintain  the  stand  he 
had  taken,  crying  hotly : 

"  But  that  man  is  crazy,  and  deaf-and-dumb  be 
sides  !  or  so  the  papers  give  out.  Surely  his  testi 
mony  is  valueless.  You  would  not  confront  me 
with  him?" 

"  We  confront  you  with  no  one.  We  only  asked 
you  a  question.  You  did  not  observe  the  valet, 
then?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Or  understand    the    mystery    of    the    colored 

lights?" 

168 


Despair 

"No,  sir." 

"  Or  of  the  plate  of  steel  and  the  other  contri 
vances  with  which  your  brother  enlivened  his  soli 
tude?" 

"  I  do  not  follow  you,  sir. "  But  there  was  a 
change  in  his  tone. 

"  I  see,"  said  the  inspector,  "  that  the  complica 
tions  which  have  disturbed  us  and  made  necessary 
this  long  delay  in  the  collection  of  testimony  have 
not  entered  into  the  crime  as  described  by  you. 
Now  this  is  possible ;  but  there  is  still  a  circum 
stance  requiring  explanation ;  a  little  circumstance, 
which  is,  nevertheless,  one  of  importance,  since 
your  wife  mentioned  it  to  you  as  soon  as  she  be 
came  conscious.  I  allude  to  the  half  dozen  or 
more  words  which  were  written  by  your  brother 
immediately  preceding  his  death.  The  paper  on 
which  they  were  written  has  been  found,  and  that 
it  was  a  factor  in  your  quarrel  is  evident,  since  she 
regretted  that  it  had  been  left  behind  you,  and 
he —  Do  you  know  where  we  found  this  paper?  " 

The  eyes  which  young  Adams  raised  at  this 
interrogatory  had  no  intelligence  in  them.  The 
sight  of  this  morsel  of  paper  seemed  to  have  de 
prived  him  in  an  instant  of  all  the  faculties  with 

which  he  had  been  carrying  on  this  unequal  strug- 
169 


The  Circular  Study 

gle.  He  shook  his  head,  tried  to  reach  out  his 
hand,  but  failed  to  grasp  the  scrap  of  paper  which 
the  inspector  held  out.  Then  he  burst  into  a  loud 
cry: 

"  Enough !  I  cannot  hold  out,  with  no  other 
support  than  a  wicked  lie.  I  killed  my  brother 
for  reasons  good  as  any  man  ever  had  for  killing 
another.  But  I  shall  not  impart  them.  I  would 
rather  be  tried  for  murder  and  hanged." 

It  was  a  complete  breakdown,  pitiful  from  its 
contrast  with  the  man's  herculean  physique  and 
fine,  if  contracted,  features.  If  the  end,  it  was  a 
sad  end,  and  Mr.  Gryce,  whose  forehead  had  taken 
on  a  deep  line  between  the  eyebrows,  slowly  rose 
and  took  his  stand  by  the  young  man,  who  looked 
ready  to  fall.  The  inspector,  on  the  contrary,  did 
not  move.  He  had  begun  a  tattoo  with  his  fingers 
on  the  table,  and  seemed  bound  to  beat  it  out, 
when  another  sudden  cry  broke  from  the  young 
man's  lips : 

"  What  is  that  ? "  he  demanded,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  door,  and  his  whole  frame  shaking 
violently. 

"  Nothing,"  began  the  inspector,  when  the  door 
suddenly  opened  and  the  figure  of  a  woman  white 

as  a  wraith  and  wonderful  with  a  sort  of  holy  pas- 
170 


Despair 

sion  darted  from  the  grasp  of  a  man  who  sought 
to  detain  her,  and  stood  before  them,  palpitating 
with  a  protest  which  for  a  moment  she  seemed 
powerless  to  utter. 

It  was  Adams's  young,  invalid  wife,  whom  he 
had  left  three  hours  before  at  Belleville.  She  was 
so  frail  of  form,  so  exquisite  of  feature,  that  she 
would  have  seemed  some  unearthly  visitant  but  for 
the  human  anguish  which  pervaded  her  look  and 
soon  found  vent  in  this  touching  cry : 

"  What  is  he  saying  ?  Oh,  I  know  well  what  he 
is  saying.  He  is  saying  that  he  killed  his  brother, 
that  he  held  the  dagger  which  rid  the  world  of 
a  monster  of  whose  wickedness  none  knew.  But 
you  must  not  heed  him.  Indeed  you  must  not 
heed  him.  He  is  innocent;  I,  his  wife,  have 
come  twenty  miles,  from  a  bed  of  weakness  and 
suffering,  to  tell  you  so.  He " 

But  here  a  hand  was  laid  gently,  but  firmly  on 
her  mouth.  She  looked  up,  met  her  husband's 
eyes  filled  with  almost  frantic  appeal,  and  giving 
him  a  look  in  return  that  sank  into  the  heart  of 
every  man  who  beheld  it,  laid  her  own  hand  on 
his  and  drew  it  softly  away. 

"  It  is  too  late,  Tom,  I  must  speak.     My  father, 

my  own  weakness,  or  your  own  peremptory  com- 
171 


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mands  could  not  keep  me  at  Belleville  when  I 
knew  you  had  been  brought  here.  And  shall  I 
stop  now,  in  the  presence  of  these  men  who  have 
heard  your  words  and  may  believe  them?  No, 
that  would  be  a  cowardice  unworthy  of  our  love 
and  the  true  lives  we  hope  to  lead  together. 
Sirs ! "  and  each  man  there  held  his  breath  to 
catch  the  words  which  came  in  faint  and  fainter 
intonation  from  her  lips,  "  I  know  my  husband 
to  be  innocent,  because  the  hand  that  held  the  dag 
ger  was  mine.  I  killed  Felix  Cadwalader !  " 


The  horror  of  such  a  moment  is  never  fully 
realized  till  afterward.  Not  a  man  there  moved, 
not  even  her  husband,  yet  on  every  cheek  a  slow 
pallor  was  forming,  which  testified  to  the  effect  of 
such  words  from  lips  made  for  smiles  and  showing 
in  every  curve  the  habit  of  gentle  thought  and  the 
loftiest  instincts.  Not  till  some  one  cried  out 
from  the  doorway,  "Catch  her!  she  is  falling!" 
did  any  one  stir  or  release  the  pent-up  breath 
which  awe  and  astonishment  had  hitherto  held 
back  on  every  lip.  Then  he  in  whose  evident  de 
spair  all  could  read  the  real  cause  of  the  great  dread 

which  had  drawn   him   into   a   false    confession, 
172 


Despair 

sprang  forward,  and  with  renewed  life  showing 
itself  in  every  feature,  caught  her  in  his  arms. 
As  he  staggered  with  her  to  a  sofa  and  laid  her 
softly  down,  he  seemed  another  man  in  look  and 
bearing;  and  Mr.  Gryce,  who  had  been  watching 
the  whole  wonderful  event  with  the  strongest  in 
terest,  understood  at  once  the  meaning  of  the 
change  which  had  come  over  his  prisoner  at  that 
point  in  his  memorable  arrest  when  he  first  real 
ized  that  it  was  for  himself  they  had  come,  and 
not  for  the  really  guilty  person,  the  idolized  object 
of  his  affections. 

Meanwhile,  he  was  facing  them  all,  with  one 
hand  laid  tenderly  on  that  unconscious  head. 

"Do  not  think,"  he  cried,  "that  because  this 
young  girl  has  steeped  her  hand  in  blood,  she  is  a 
wicked  woman.  There  is  no  purer  heart  on  earth 
than  hers,  and  none  more  worthy  of  the  worship 
of  a  true  man.  See !  she  killed  my  brother,  son 
of  my  father,  beloved  by  my  mother,  yet  I  can 
kiss  her  hand,  kiss  her  forehead,  her  eyes,  her 
feet,  not  because  I  hate  him,  but  because  I  wor 
ship  her,  the  purest — the  best He  left  her, 

and  came  and  stood  before  those  astonished  men. 
"  Sirs!  "  he  cried,  "  I  must  ask  you  to  listen  to  a 
strange,  a  terrible  tale." 

173 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

MEMORANDA. 

"  IT  is  like  and  unlike  what  I  have  just  related 
to  you,"  began  young  Adams.  "  In  my  previous 
confession  I  mixed  truth  and  falsehood,  and  to  ex 
plain  myself  fully  and  to  help  you  to  a  right  un 
derstanding  of  my  wife's  act,  I  shall  have  to  start 
afresh  and  speak  as  if  I  had  already  told  you  noth 
ing." 

"  Wait ! "  cried  Mr.  Gryce,  in  an  authoritative 
manner.  "  We  will  listen  to  you  presently;  "  and, 
leaning  over  the  inspector,  he  whispered  a  few 
words,  after  which  he  took  out  a  pencil  and  jotted 
down  certain  sentences,  which  he  handed  over  to 
this  gentleman. 

As  they  had  the  appearance  of  a  memorandum, 
and  ,as  the  inspector  glanced  more  than  once  at 
them  while  Mr.  Adams  (or  Cadwalader,  as  he 
should  now  rightfully  be  called)  was  proceeding 
with  his  story,  I  will  present  them  to  you  as  writ 
ten. 


Memoranda 

Points  to  be  made  clear  by  Mr.  Adams  in  his 
account  of  this  crime : 

1.  Why  a  woman  who  was  calm  enough  to  stop 
and  arrange  her  hair  during  the  beginning  of  an 
interview  should  be  wrought  up  to  such  a  pitch 
of  frenzy  and  exasperation  before  it  was  over  as 
to  kill  with  her  own  hand  a  man  against  whom 
she  had  evidently  no  previous  grudge.     (Remem 
ber  the  comb  found  on  the  floor  of  Mr.  Adams's 
bedroom.) 

2.  What   was   the   meaning   of    the   following 
words,  written   just  previous  to  this  interview  by 
the  man  thus  killed :  "  I  return  you  your  daughter. 
Neither  you  nor  she  shall  ever  see  me  again.     Re 
member  Evelyn ! " 

3.  Why  was  the  pronoun  "  I"  used  in  this  com 
munication  ?     What  position  did  Mr.  Felix  Adams 
hold  toward  this   young  girl    qualifying  him   to 
make  use  of  such  language  after  her  marriage  to 
his  brother? 

4.  And  having  used  it,  why  did  he,  upon  being 
attacked  by  her,  attempt  to  swallow  the   paper 
upon  which  he  had  written  these  words,  actually 
dying  with  it  clinched  between  his  teeth  ? 

5.  If  he  was  killed  in  anger  and  died  as  mon 
sters  do   (her  own  word),  why  did  his  face  show 


The  Circular  Study 

sorrow  rather  than  hate,  and  a  determination  as  far 
as  possible  removed  from  the  rush  of  overwhelm 
ing  emotions  likely  to  follow  the  reception  of  a 
mortal  blow  from  the  hand  of  an  unexpected  an 
tagonist  ? 

6.  Why,  if  he  had  strength  to  seize  the  above- 
mentioned  paper  and  convey  it  to  his  lips,  did  he 
not  use  that  strength  in  turning  on  a  light  calcu 
lated  to  bring  him  assistance,  instead  of  leaving 
blazing  the  crimson  glow  which,  according  to  the 
code  of  signals  as  now  understood  by  us,  means : 
"  Nothing  more  required  just  now.      Keep  away." 

7.  What  was  the  meaning  of   the   huge   steel 
plate  found  between  the  casings  of  the  doorway, 
and  why  did  it  remain  at  rest  within  its  socket 
at  this,  the  culminating  moment  of  his  life  ? 

8.  An  explanation  of  how  old  Poindexter  came 
to  appear  on  the  scene  so  soon  after  the  event. 
His  words  as  overheard  were :  "  It  is  Amos's  son, 
not  Amos  !  "     Did  he  not  know  whom  he  was  to 
meet  in  this  house?     Was  the  condition  of  the 
man  lying  before  him  with  a  cross  on  his  bosom 
and  a  dagger  in  his  heart  less  of  a  surprise  to  him 
than  the  personality  of  the  victim  ? 

9.  Remember  the  conclusions  we  have  drawn 

from  Bartow's  pantomime.     Mr.  Adams  was  killed 
176 


Memoranda 

by  a  left-handed  thrust.  Watch  for  an  acknowl 
edgment  that  the  young  woman  is  left-handed, 
and  do  not  forget  that  an  explanation  is  due  why 
for  so  long  a  time  she  held  her  other  arm  stretched 
out  behind  her. 

10.  Why  did  the  bird  whose  chief  cry  is  "Re 
member  Evelyn  !  "  sometimes  vary  it  with  "  Poor 
Eva !   Lovely  Eva !    Who  would  strike  Eva  ?  "    The 
story  of  this  tragedy,  to  be  true,  must  show  that 
Mr.  Adams  knew  his  brother's   bride  both  long 
and  well. 

11.  If  Bartow  is,  as  we  think,  innocent  of  all 
connection  with  this  crime  save  as  witness,  why 
does  he  show  such  joy  at  its  result?     This  may 
not  reasonably  be  expected  to  fall  within  the  scope 
of  Thomas  Adams's  confession,  but  it  should  not 
be  ignored  by  us.     This  deaf-and-dumb  servitor 
was  driven  mad  by  a  fact  which  caused  him  joy. 
Why? 

12.  Notice  the  following  schedule.     It  has  been 
drawn  up  after  repeated  experiments  with  Bartow 
and  the  various  slides  of  the  strange  lamp  which 
cause  so  many  different  lights  to  shine  out  in  Mr. 
Adams's  study : 

White  light — Water  wanted. 

Green  light — Overcoat  and  hat  to  be  brought. 
177 


The  Circular  Study 

Blue  light — Put  back  books  on  shelves. 

Violet  light — Arrange  study  for  the  night. 

Yellow  light — Watch  for  next  light. 

Red  light — Nothing  wanted ;  stay  away. 

The  last  was  on  at  the  final  scene.  Note  if 
this  fact  can  be  explained  by  Mr.  Adams's  account 
of  the  same. 

With  these  points  in  our  mind,  let  us  peruse  the 
history  of  this  crime  and  of  the  remote  and  possi 
bly  complicated  causes  which  led  to  it. 


BOOK    II 
REMEMBER  EVELYN 


12  179 


BOOK    II 

REMEMBER  EVELYN 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   SECRET  OF    THE    CADWALADERS. 

THOMAS  CADWALADER  suggested  rather  than 
told  his  story.  We  dare  not  imitate  him  in  this, 
nor  would  it  be  just  to  your  interest  to  relate  these 
facts  with  all  the  baldness  and  lack  of  detail  im 
posed  upon  this  unhappy  man  by  the  hurry  and 
anxiety  of  the  occasion.  Remarkable  tragedies 
have  their  birth  in  remarkable  facts,  and  as  such 
facts  are  but  the  outcome  of  human  passions,  we 
must  enter  into  those  passions  if  we  would  under 
stand  either  the  facts  or  their  appalling  conse 
quences.  In  this  case,  the  first  link  of  the  chain 
which  led  to  Felix  Adams's  violent  death  was 
forged  before  the  birth  of  the  woman  who  struck 
him.  We  must  begin,  then,  with  almost  forgotten 


The  Circular  Study 

days,  and  tell  the  story,  as  her  pleader  did,  from 
the  standpoint  of  Felix  and  Thomas  Cadwalader. 

Thomas  Cadwalader — now  called  Adams — never 
knew  his  mother;  she  died  in  his  early  infancy. 
Nor  could  he  be  said  to  have  known  his  father,  hav 
ing  been  brought  up  in  France  by  an  old  Scotch 
lawyer,  who,  being  related  to  his  mother,  sometimes 
spoke  of  her,  but  never  of  his  father,  till  Thomas 
had  reached  his  fifteenth  year.  Then  he  put  cer 
tain  books  into  his  hands,  with  this  remarkable 
injunction : 

"  Here  are  romances,  Thomas.  Read  them ; 
but  remember  that  none  of  them,  no  matter  how 
thrilling  in  matter  or  effect,  will  ever  equal  the 
story  of  your  father's  bitterly  wronged  and  suffer 
ing  life." 

"My  father!"  he  cried;  "  tell  me  about  him ;  I 
have  never  heard." 

But  his  guardian,  satisfied  with  an  allusion  which 
he  knew  must  bear  fruit  in  the  extremely  suscep 
tible  nature  of  this  isolated  boy,  said  no  more  that 
day,  and  Thomas  turned  to  the  books.  But  noth 
ing  after  that  could  ever  take  his  mind  away  from 
his  father.  He  had  scarcely  thought  of  him  for 
years,  but  now  that  that  father  had  been  placed 

before  him    in   the   light  of  a  wronged  man,  he 

182 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

found  himself  continually  hunting  back  in  the 
deepest  recesses  of  his  memory  for  some  long-for 
gotten  recollection  of  that  father's  features  calcu 
lated  to  restore  his  image  to  his  eyes.  Sometimes 
he  succeeded  in  this,  or  thought  he  did ;  but  this 
image,  if  image  it  was,  was  so  speedily  lost  in  a 
'sensation  of  something  strange  and  awe-compelling 
enveloping  it,  that  he  found  himself  more  absorbed 
by  the  intangible  impressions  associated  with  this 
memory  than  by  the  memory  itself.  What  were 
these  impressions,  and  in  what  had  they  origi 
nated?  In  vain  he  tried  to  determine.  They 
were  as  vague  as  they  were  persistent.  A  stretch 
of  darkness — two  bars  of  orange  light,  always 
shining,  always  the  same — black  lines  against 
these  bars,  like  the  tops  of  distant  gables — an  in 
ner  thrill — a  vague  affright — a  rush  about  him  as 
of  a  swooping  wind — all  this  came  with  his  father's 
image,  only  to  fade  away  with  it,  leaving  him 
troubled,  uneasy,  and  perplexed.  Finding  these 
impressions  persistent,  and  receiving  no  explana 
tion  of  them  in  his  own  mind,  he  finally  asked  his 
guardian  what  they  meant.  But  that  guardian  was 
as  ignorant  as  himself  on  this  topic ;  and  satisfied 
with  having  roused  the  boy's  imagination,  confined 
himself  to  hints,  dropped  now  and  then  with  a 
183 


The  Circular  Study 

judiciousness  which  proved  the  existence  of  a  de 
liberate  purpose,  of  some  duty  which  awaited  him 
on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  a  duty  which  would 
explain  his  long  exile  from  his  only  parent  and  for 
which  he  must  fit  himself  by  study  and  the  acquire 
ment  of  such  accomplishments  as  render  a  young 
man  a  positive  power  in  society,  whether  that  soci-' 
ety  be  of  the  Old  World  or  the  New.  He  showed 
his  shrewdness  in  thus  dealing  with  this  pliable 
and  deeply  affectionate  nature.  From  this  time 
forth  Thomas  felt  himself  leading  a  life  of  mystery 
and  interest. 

To  feel  himself  appointed  for  a  work  whose  un 
known  character  only  heightened  its  importance 
gave  point  to  every  effort  now  made  by  this  young 
man,  and  lent  to  his  studies  that  vague  touch  of 
romance  which  made  them  a  delight,  and  him  an 
adept  in  many  things  he  might  otherwise  have 
cared  little  about.  At  eighteen  he  was  a  graduate 
from  the  Sorbonne,  and  a  musical  virtuoso  as  well. 
He  could  fence,  ride,  and  carry  off  the  prize  in 
games  requiring  physical  prowess  as  well  as  men 
tal  fitness.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  prodigy  in  many 
ways,  and  was  so  considered  by  his  fellow-stu 
dents.  He,  however,  was  not  perfect;  he  lacked 

social  charm,  and  in  so  far  failed  of  being  the 
184 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

complete  gentleman.  This  he  was  made  to  real 
ize  in  the  following  way  : 

One  morning  his  guardian  came  to  him  with  a 
letter  from  his  father,  in  which,  together  with 
some  words  of  commendation  for  his  present  at 
tainments,  that  father  expressed  a  certain  dissatis 
faction  with  his  general  manner  as  being  too 
abrupt  and  self-satisfied  with  those  of  his  own  sex, 
and  much  too  timid  and  deprecatory  with  those  of 
the  other.  Thomas  felt  the  criticism  and  recog 
nized  its  justice;  but  how  had  his  father,  proved 
by  his  letter  to  be  no  longer  a  myth,  become  ac 
quainted  with  defects  which  Thomas  instinctively 
felt  could  never  have  attracted  the  attention  of  his 
far  from  polished  guardian  ? 

His  questions  on  this  point  elicited  a  response 
that  confounded  him.  He  was  not  the  only  son 
of  his  father;  he  had  a  brother  living,  and  this 
brother,  older  than  himself  by  some  twenty  years 
or  more,  had  just  been  in  Paris,  where,  in  all 
probability,  he  had  met  him,  talked  with  him,  and 
perhaps  pressed  his  hand. 

It  was  a  discovery  calculated  to  deepen  the  im 
pression  already  made  upon  Thomas's  mind.  Only 
a  purpose  of  the  greatest  importance  could  account 
for  so  much  mystery.  What  could  it  be  ?  What 
185 


The  Circular  Study 

was  he  destined  to  do  or  say  or  be?  He  was  not 
told,  but  while  awaiting  enlightenment  he  was 
resolved  not  to  be  a  disappointment  to  the  two 
anxious  souls  who  watched  his  career  so  eagerly 
and  exacted  from  him  such  perfection.  He  con 
sequently  moderated  his  manner,  and  during  the 
following  year  acquired  by  constant  association 
with  the  gilded  youth  about  him  that  indescrib 
able  charm  of  the  perfect  gentleman  which  he  was 
led  to  believe  would  alone  meet  with  the  approval 
of  those  he  now  felt  bound  to  please.  At  the  end 
of  the  year  he  found  himself  a  finished  man  of  the 
world.  How  truly  so,  he  began  to  realize  when  he 
noted  the  blush  with  which  his  presence  was  hailed 
by  women  and  the  respect  shown  him  by  men  of 
his  own  stamp.  In  the  midst  of  the  satisfaction 
thus  experienced  his  guardian  paid  him  a  final 
visit. 

"  You  are  now  ready,"  said  he,  "  for  your  father's 
summons.  It  will  come  in  a  few  weeks.  Be  care 
ful,  then.  Form  no  ties  you  cannot  readily  break ; 
for,  once  recalled  from  France,  you  are  not  likely 
to  return  here.  What  your  father's  purpose  con 
cerning  you  may  be  1  do  not  know,  but  it  is  no 
ordinary  one.  You  will  have  money,  a  well-ap 
pointed  home,  family  affection,  all  that  you  have 
186 


The  Secret  of  the   Cadwaladers 

hitherto  craved  in  vain,  and  in  return  you  will 
carry  solace  to  a  heart  which  has  awaited  your 
healing  touch  for  twenty  years.  So  much  I  am 
ordered  to  say ;  the  rest  you  will  hear  from  your 
father's  own  lips." 

Aroused,  encouraged,  animated  by  the  wildest 
hopes,  the  most  extravagant  anticipations,  Thomas 
awaited  his  father's  call  with  feverish  impatience, 
and  when  it  came,  hastened  to  respond  to  it  by  an 
immediate  voyage  to  America.  This  was  some 

six  months  previous  to  the  tragedy  in Street. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  wharf  in  New  York  he  was 
met,  not  by  his  brother,  as  he  had  every  reason  to 
expect,  but  by  a  messenger  in  whose  face  evil  tid 
ings  were  apparent  before  he  spoke.  Thomas  was 
soon  made  acquainted  with  them.  His  father, 
who  he  now  learned  was  called  Cadwalader  (he 
himself  had  always  been  called  Adams),  was  ill, 
possibly  dying.  He  must  therefore  hasten,  and, 
being  provided  with  minute  instructions  as  to  his 
way,  took  the  train  at  once  for  a  small  village  in 
northern  Pennsylvania. 

All  that  followed  was  a  dream  to  him.  He  was 
hurried  through  the  night,  with  the  motion  of  the 
ship  still  in  his  blood,  to  meet — what  ?  He  dared 
not  think.  He  swam  in  a  veritable  nightmare. 


The   Circular  Study 

Then  came  a  stop,  a  hurrying  from  the  train,  a  halt 
on  a  platform  reeking  with  rain  (for  the  night  was 
stormy),  a  call  from  some  one  to  hurry,  the  sight 
of  a  panting  horse  steaming  under  a  lamp  whose 
blowing  flame  he  often  woke  in  after  nights  to  see, 
a  push  from  a  persuasive  hand,  then  a  ride  over  a 
country  road  the  darkness  of  which  seemed  im 
penetrable,  and,  finally,  the  startling  vision  of  an 
open  door,  with  a  Meg  Merrilies  of  a  woman 
standing  in  it,  holding  a  flaming  candle  in  her 
hand.  The  candle  went  out  while  he  looked  at  it, 
and  left  only  a  voice  to  guide  him — a  voice  which, 
in  tones  shaken  by  chill  or  feeling,  he  could  not 
tell  which,  cried  eagerly : 

"Is  that  you,  laddie?  Come  awa  in.  Come 
awa  in.  Dinna  heed  the  rain.  The  maister's 
been  crying  on  you  a'  day.  I'm  glad  you're  no 
ower  late. " 

He  got  down,  followed  the  voice,  and,  stumbling 
up  a  step  or  two,  entered  a  narrow  door,  which  was 
with  difficulty  held  open  behind  him,  and  which 
swung  to  with  a  loud  noise  the  minute  he  crossed 
the  threshold.  This  or  the  dreariness  of  the 
place  in  which  he  found  himself  disturbed  him 
greatly.  Bare  floors,  stained  walls,  meagre  door 
ways,  and  a  common  pine  staircase,  lighted  only 
188 


The  Secret  of  the   Cadwaladers 

by  the  miserable  candle  which  the  old  woman 
had  relit — were  these  the  appointments  of  the 
palatial  home  he  had  been  led  to  expect  ?  These 
the  surroundings,  this  the  abode  of  him  who  had 
exacted  such  perfection  on  his  part,  and  to  satisfy 
whose  standard  he  had  devoted  years  of  hourly, 
daily  effort,  in  every  department  of  art  and 
science?  A  sickening  revolt  seized  him,  aggra 
vated  by  the  smiles  of  the  old  woman,  who  dipped 
and  courtesied  before  him  in  senile  delight.  She 
may  have  divined  his  feelings,  for,  drawing  him 
inside,  she  relieved  him  of  his  overcoat,  crying  all 
the  while,  with  an  extravagant  welcome  more  re 
pulsive  than  all  the  rest : 

"O  the  fine  laddie!  Wad  your  puir  mither 
could  see  you  the  noo !  Bonnie  and  clever !  No 
your  faither's  bairn  ava !  All  mither,  laddie,  all 
mither!" 

The  room  was  no  better  than  the  hall. 

"Where  is  my  father?"  he  asked,  authorita 
tively,  striving  to  keep  down  his  strong  repug 
nance. 

"  Dinna  ye  hear  him?  He's  crying  on  ye. 
Puir  man,  he's  wearying  to  see  ye." 

Hear  him  ?  He  could  scarcely  hear  her.  The 
driving  rain,  the  swish  of  some  great  boughs 
*  l89 


The   Circular  Study 

against  the  house,  the  rattling  of  casements  and 
doors,  and  the  shrieking  of  wind  in  the  chimney 
made  all  other  sounds  wellnigh  inaudible.  Yet 
as  he  listened  he  seemed  to  catch  the  accents  of 
a  far-off  voice  calling,  now  wistfully,  now  impera 
tively,  "Thomas!  Thomas!"  And,  thrilled  with 
an  emotion  almost  superstitious  in  its  intensity, 
he  moved  hastily  toward  the  staircase. 

But  the  old  woman  was  there  before  him. 
"Na!  Na!"  she  cried.  "  Come  in  by  and  eat 
something  first." 

But  Thomas  shook  his  head.  It  seemed  to  him 
at  that  moment  as  if  he  never  could  eat  or  sleep 
again,  the  disillusion  was  so  bitter,  his  disappoint 
ment  so  keen. 

"  You  will  na  ?  Then  haste  ye — haste  ye.  But 
it's  a  peety  you  wadna  ha'e  eaten  something. 
Ye'll  need  it,  laddie;  ye'll  need  it." 

"  Thomas !  Thomas  !  "  wailed  the  voice. 

He  tore  himself  away.  He  forced  himself  to 
go  upstairs,  following  the  cry,  which  at  every 
moment  grew  louder.  At  the  top  he  cast  a  final 
glance  below.  The  old  woman  stood  at  the  stair- 
foot,  shading  the  candle  from  the  draught  with  a 
hand  that  shook  with  something  more  than  age. 

She  was  gazing  after  him  in  vague  affright,  and 
190 


The   Secret  of  the   Cadwaladers 

with  the  shadow  of  this  fear  darkening  her  weazen 
face,  formed  a  picture  from  which  he  was  glad  to 
escape. 

Plunging  on,  he  found  himself  before  a  window 
whose  small  panes  dripped  and  groaned  under  a 
rain  that  was  fast  becoming  a  torrent.  Chilled  by 
the  sight,  he  turned  toward  the  door  faintly  out 
lined  beside  it,  and  in  the  semi-darkness  seized  an 
old-fashioned  latch  rattling  in  the  wind  that  per 
meated  every  passageway,  and  softly  raised  it. 

Instantly  the  door  fell  back,  and  two  eyes  blaz 
ing  with  fever  and  that  fire  of  the  soul  of  which 
fever  is  the  mere  physical  symbol  greeted  him 
from  the  midst  of  a  huge  bed  drawn  up  against 
the  opposite  wall.  Then  two  arms  rose,  and  the 
moaning  cry  of  "  Thomas !  Thomas ! "  changed  to 
a  shout,  and  he  knew  himself  to  be  in  the  presence 
of  his  father. 

Falling  on  his  knees  in  speechless  emotion,  he 
grasped  the  wasted  hands  held  out  to  him.  Such 
a  face,  rugged  though  it  was  and  far  from  fulfill 
ing  the  promise  held  out  to  him  in  his  dreams, 
could  not  but  move  any  man.  As  he  gazed  into  it 
and  pressed  the  hands  in  which  the  life  blood  only 
seemed  to  linger  for  this  last,  this  only  embrace, 

all  kis  filial  instincts  were  aroused  and  he  forgot 

191 


The   Circular  Study 

the  common  surroundings,  the  depressing  rain,  his 
own  fatigue  and  bitter  disappointment,  in  his  life 
long  craving  for  love  and  family  recognition. 

But  the  old  man  on  whose  breast  he  fell  showed 
other  emotions  than  those  by  which  he  was  him 
self  actuated.  It  was  not  an  embrace  he  craved, 
but  an  opportunity  to  satisfy  an  almost  frenzied 
curiosity  as  to  the  appearance  and  attributes  of  the 
son  who  had  grown  to  manhood  under  other  eyes. 
Pushing  him  gently  back,  he  bade  him  stand  in 
the  light  of  the  lamp  burning  on  a  small  pine 
table,  and  surveyed  him,  as  it  were,  from  the  verge 
of  his  own  fast  failing  life,  with  moans  of  mingled 
pain  and  weariness,  amid  which  Thomas  thought 
he  heard  the  accents  of  a  supreme  satisfaction. 

Meanwhile  in  Thomas  himself,  as  he  stood  there, 
the  sense  of  complete  desolation  filled  his  breast 
almost  to  bursting.  To  have  come  home  for  this  ! 
To  find  a  father  only  to  be  weighed  in  the  scales 
of  that  father's  judgment !  To  be  admired,  instead 
of  loved ! 

As  he  realized  his  position  and  listened  to  the 
shrieking  of  the  wind  and  rain,  he  felt  that  the 
wail  of  the  elements  but  echoed  the  cry  of  his  own 
affections,  thus  strangled  in  their  birth.  Indeed 

the  sensations  of  that  moment  made  so  deep  an 
192 


The  Secret  of  the   Cadwaladers 

impression  upon  him  that  he  was  never  afterward 
able  to  hear  a  furious  gust  of  wind  or  rain  without 
the  picture  rising  up  before  him  of  this  great  hol 
low  room,  with  the  trembling  figure  of  his  father 
struggling  in  the  grasp  of  death  and  holding  it 
at  bay,  while  he  gauged  with  worldly  wisdom  the 
physical,  mental,  and  moral  advantages  of  the  son 
so  long  banished  and  so  lately  restored  to  his  arms. 

A  rush  of  impetuous  words  followed  by  the  col 
lapse  of  his  father's  form  upon  the  pillow  showed 
that  the  examination  twas  over.  Rushing  forward, 
he  grasped  again  that  father's  hands,  but  soon 
shrank  back,  stunned  by  what  he  heard  and  -the 
prospect  it  opened  before  him.  A  few  of  his 
father's  words  will  interpret  the  rest.  They  came 
in  a  flood,  and  among  others  Thomas  caught  these : 

"  The  grace  of  God  be  thanked !  Our  efforts 
have  not  failed.  Handsome,  strong,  noble  in  look 
and  character,  we  could  ask  nothing  more,  hope 
for  nothing  more.  My  revenge  will  succeed! 
John  Poindexter  will  find  that  he  has  a  heart,  and 
that  that  heart  can  be  wrung.  I  do  not  need  to 
live  to  see  it.  For  me  it  exists  now;  it  exists 
here !  "  And  he  struck  his  breast  with  hands  that 
seemed  to  have  reserved  their  last  strength  for 
this  supreme  gesture. 

'93 


The  Circular  Study 

John  Poindexter !  Who  was  he  ?  It  was  a  new 
name  to  Thomas.  Venturing  to  say  so,  he  reeled 
under  the  look  he  received  from  his  father's  eyes. 

"  You  do  not  know  who  John  Poindexter  is,  and 
what  he  has  done  to  me  and  mine  ?  They  have 
kept  their  promise  well,  too  well,  but  God  will  ac 
cord  me  strength  to  tell  you  what  has  been  left 
unsaid  by  them.  He  would  not  bring  me  up  to 
this  hour  to  let  me  perish  before  you  have  heard  the 
story  destined  to  make  you  the  avenger  of  innocence 
upon  that  enemy  of  your  race.  Listen,  Thomas. 
With  the  hand  of  death  encircling  my  heart,  I 
speak,  and  if  the  story  find  you  cold — But  it  will 
not.  Your  name  is  Cadwalader,  and  it  will  not. " 

Constrained  by  passions  such  as  he  had  never 
imagined  even  in  dreams,  Thomas  fell  upon  his 
knees.  He  could  not  listen  otherwise.  His 
father,  gasping  for  breath,  fixed  him  with  his 
hollow  eyes,  in  which  the  last  flickering  flames  of 
life  flared  up  in  fitful  brightness. 

"  Thomas  " — the  pause  was  brief— "you  are  not 
my  only  child." 

"  I  know  it,"  fell  from  Thomas's  white  lips.  "  I 
have  a  brother;  his  name  is  Felix." 

The  father  shook  his  head  with  a  look  sugges 
tive  of  impatience. 

194 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

-'Not  him!  Not  him!"  he  cried.  "  A  sister!  a 
sister,  who  died  before  you  were  born — beautiful, 
good,  with  a  voice  like  an  angel's  and  a  heart — 
<*ne  should  be  standing  by  my  side  to-day,  and 
she  would  have  been  if — if  he — but  none  of  that. 
I  have  no  breath  to  waste.  Facts,  facts,  just 
facts !  Afterward  may  come  emotions,  hatred, 
denunciation,  not  now.  This  is  my  story, 
Thomas. 

"'John  Poindexter  and  I  were  friends.  From 
boyhood  we  shared  each  other's  bed,  food,  and 
pleasures,  and  when  he  came  to  seek  his  fortune 
in  America  I  accompanied  him.  He  was  an  able 
man,  but  cold.  I  was  of  an  affectionate  nature, 
but  without  any  business  capacity.  As  proof  of 
this,  in  fifteen  years  he  was  rich,  esteemed,  the 
master  of  a  fine  house,  and  the  owner  of  half  a 
dozen  horses ;  while  I  was  the  same  nobody  I  had 
been  at  first,  or  would  have  been  had  not  Provi 
dence  given  me  two  beautiful  children  and  blessed, 
or  rather  cursed,  me  with  the  friendship  of  this 
prosperous  man.  When  Felix  was  fourteen  and 
Evelyn  three  years  older,  their  mother  died. 
Soon  after,  the  little  money  I  had  vanished  in  an 
unfortunate  enterprise,  and  life  began  to  promise 
ill,  both  for  myself  and  for  my  growing  children. 
13  195 


The   Circular  Study 

John  Poindexter,  who  was  honest  enough  then,  or 
let  me  hope  so,  and  who  had  no  children  of  his 
own,  though  he  had  been  long  married,  offered  to 
take  one  of  mine  to  educate.  But  I  did  not  con 
sent  to  this  till  the  war  of  the  rebellion  broke  out ; 
then  I  sent  him  both  son  and  daughter,  and  went 
into  the  army.  For  four  years  I  fought  for  the 
flag,  suffering  all  that  a  man  can  suffer  and  live, 
and  being  at  last  released  from  Libby  Prison,  came 
home  with  a  heart  full  of  gratitude  and  with  every 
affection  keyed  up  by  a  long  series  of  unspeakable 
experiences,  to  greet  my  son  and  clasp  once  more 
within  my  wasted  arms  the  idolized  form  of  my 
deeply  loved  daughter.  What  did  I  find  ?  A  fu 
neral  in  the  streets — hers — and  Felix,  your  brother, 
walking  like  a  guard  between  her  speechless  corpse 
and  the  man  under  whose  protection  I  had  placed 
her  youth  and  innocence. 

"  Betrayed !  "  shrieked  the  now  frenzied  parent, 
rising  on  his  pillow.  "  Her  innocence !  Her  sweet 
ness  !  And  he,  cold  as  the  stone  we  laid  upon  her 
grave,  had  seen  her  perish  with  the  anguish  and 
shame  of  it,  without  a  sign  of  grief  or  a  word  of 
contrition. " 

"  O  God ! "   burst  from  lips  the  old  man  was 

watching  with  frenzied  cunning. 
196 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

"  Ay,  God ! "  repeated  the  father,  shaking  his 
head  as  if  in  defiance  before  he  fell  back  on  his 
pillow.  "  He  allowed  it  and  I —  But  this  does 
not  tell  the  story.  I  must  keep  to  facts  as  Felix 
did — Felix,  who  was  but  fifteen  years  old  and  yet 
found  himself  the  only  confidant  and  solace  of  this 
young  girl  betrayed  by  her  protector.  It  was  after 
her  burial " 

"  Cease !  "  cried  a  voice,  smooth,  fresh,  and  yet 
strangely  commanding,  from  over  Thomas's 
shoulder.  "  Let  me  tell  the  rest.  No  man  can 
tell  the  rest  as  I  can." 

"  Felix !  "  ejaculated  Amos  Cadwalader  below 
his  breath. 

"  Felix!  "  repeated  Thomas,  shaken  to  his  very 
heart  by  this  new  presence.  But  when  he  sought 
to  rise,  to  turn,  he  felt  the  pressure  of  a  hand  on 
his  shoulder  and  heard  that  voice  again,  saying 
softly,  but  peremptorily : 

"Wait!  Wait  till  you  hear  what  I  have  to 
say.  Think  not  of  me,  think  only  of  her.  It  is 
she  you  are  called  upon  to  avenge;  your  sister, 
Evelyn." 

Thomas  yielded  to  him  as  he  had  to  his  father. 
He  sank  down  beneath  that  insistent  hand,  and  his 

brother  took  up  the  tale. 

197 


The  Circular  Study 

"  Evelyn  had  a  voice  like  a  bird.  In  those  days 
before  father's  return,  she  used  to  fill  old  John 
Poindexter's  house  with  melody.  I,  who,  as  a 
boy,  was  studious,  rather  than  artistic,  thought 
she  sang  too  much  for  a  girl  whose  father  was 
rotting  away  in  a  Southern  prison.  But  when 
about  to  rebuke  her,  I  remembered  Edward  Kis- 
sam,  and  was  silent.  For  it  was  his  love  which 
made  her  glad,  and  to  him  I  wished  every  happi 
ness,  for  he  was  good,  and  honest,  and  kind  to  me. 
She  was  eighteen  then,  and  beautiful,  or  so  I  was 
bound  to  believe,  since  every  man  looked  at  her, 
even  old  John  Poindexter,  though  he  never  looked 
at  any  other  woman,  not  even  his  own  wife.  And 
she  was  good,  too,  and  pure,  I  swear,  for  her  blue 
eyes  never  faltered  in  looking  into  mine  until  one 
day  when — my  God !  how  well  I  remember  it ! — 
they  not  only  faltered,  but  shrank  before  me  in 
such  terror,  that,  boy  though  I  was,  I  knew  that 
something  terrible,  something  unprecedented  had 
happened,  and  thinking  my  one  thought,  I  asked 
if  she  had  received  bad  news  from  father.  Her 
answer  was  a  horrified  moan,  but  it  might  have 
been  a  shriek.  '  Our  father !  Pray  God  we  may 
never  see  him  or  hear  from  him  again.  If  you 

love  him,  if  you  love  me,  pray  he  may  die  in  pris- 
198 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

on  rather  than  return  here  to  see  me  as  I  am 
now.' 

"  I  thought  she  had  gone  mad,  and  perhaps  she 
had  for  a  moment ;  for  at  my  look  of  startled  dis 
tress  a  change  took  place  in  her.  She  remembered 
my  youth,  and  laughing,  or  trying  to  laugh  away 
her  frenzy,  uttered  some  hurried  words  I  failed  to 
understand,  and  then,  sinking  at  my  knee,  laid 
her  head  against  my  side,  crying  that  she  was  not 
well;  that  she  had  experienced  for  a  long  time 
secret  pains  and  great  inward  distress,  and  that 
she  sometimes  feared  she  was  not  going  to  live 
long,  for  all  her  songs  and  merry  ways  and  seem 
ing  health  and  spirits. 

"  '  Not  live,  Evelyn  ? '  It  was  an  inconceivable 
thought  to  me,  a  boy.  I  looked  at  her,  and  seeing 
how  pale,  how  incomprehensibly  pale  she  was,  my 
heart  failed  me,  for  nothing  but  mortal  sickness 
could  make  such  a  change  in  any  one  in  a  week,  in 
a  day.  Yet  how  could  death  reach  her,  loved  as 
she  was  by  Edward,  by  her  father,  and  by  me. 
Thinking  to  rouse  her,  I  spoke  the  former's  name. 
But  it  was  the  last  word  I  should  have  uttered. 
Crouching  as  if  I  had  given  her  a  blow,  she  put 
her  two  hands  out,  shrieking  faintly :  '  Not  that ! 

Never  that!     Do  not  speak  his  name.      Let  me 
199 


The  Circular  Study 

never  hear  of  him  or  see  him  again.  I  am  dead — 
do  you  not  understand  me  ? — dead  to  all  the  world 
from  this  day — except  to  you ! '  she  suddenly 
sobbed,  '  except  to  you ! '  And  still  I  did  not 
comprehend  her.  But  when  I  understood,  as  I 
soon  did,  that  no  mention  was  to  be  made  of  her 
illness ;  that  her  door  was  to  be  shut  and  no  one 
allowed  to  enter,  not  even  Mrs.  Poindexter  or  her 
guardian — least  of  all,  her  guardian — I  began  to 
catch  the  first  intimation  of  that  horror  which  was 
to  end  my  youth  and  fill  my  whole  after  life  with 
but  one  thought — revenge.  But  I  said  nothing, 
only  watched  and  waited.  Seeing  that  she  was 
really  ill,  I  constituted  myself  her  nurse,  and  sat 
by  her  night  and  day  till  her  symptoms  became 
so  alarming  that  the  whole  household  was  aroused 
and  we  could  no  longer  keep  the  doctor  from  her. 
Then  I  sat  at  her  door,  and  with  one  ear  turned  to 
catch  her  lightest  moan,  listened  for  the  step  she 
most  dreaded,  but  which,  though  it  sometimes  ap 
proached,  never  passed  the  opening  of  the  hall 
leading  to  her  chamber.  For  one  whole  week  I 
sat  there,  watching  her  life  go  slowly  out  like  a 
flame,  with  nothing  to  feed  it ;  then  as  the  great 
shadow  fell,  and  life  seemed  breaking  up  within 

me,  I  dashed  from  the  place,  and  confronting  him 

200 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

where  I  found  him  walking,  pale  and  disturbed, 
in  his  own  hall,  told  him  that  my  father  was 
coming;  that  I  had  had  a  dream,  and  in  that 
dream  I  had  seen  my  father  with  his  face  turned 
toward  this  place.  Was  he  prepared  to  meet 
him?  Had  he  an  answer  ready  when  Amos 
Cadwalader  should  ask  him  what  had  become  of 
his  child? 

"  I  had  meant  to  shock  the  truth  from  this  man, 
and  I  did  so.  As  I  mentioned  my  father's  name, 
Poindexter  blanched,  and  my  fears  became  cer 
tainty.  Dropping  my  youthful  manner,  for  I  was  a 
boy  no  longer,  I  flung  his  crime  in  his  face,  and 
begged  him  to  deny  it  if  he  could.  He  could  not, 
but  he  did  what  neither  he  nor  any  other  man  could 
do  in  my  presence  now  and  live — he  smiled.  Then 
when  he  saw  me  crouching  for  a  spring — for,  young 
as  I  was,  I  knew  but  one  impulse,  and  that  was  to 
fly  at  his  throat — he  put  out  his  powerful  hand,  and 
pinning  me  to  the  ground,  uttered  a  few  short 
sentences  in  my  ear. 

"  They  were  terrible  ones.  They  made  me  see 
that  nothing  I  might  then  do  could  obliterate  the 
fact  that  she  was  lost  if  the  world  knew  what  1 
knew,  or  even  so  much  as  suspected  it;  that  any 
betrayal  on  my  part  or  act  of  contrition  on  his 

201 


The  Circular  Study 

would  only  pile  the  earth  on  her  innocent  breast 
and  sink  her  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  grave  she 
was  then  digging  for  herself;  that  all  dreams 
were  falsities ;  that  Southern  prisons  seldom  gave 
up  their  victims  alive ;  and  that  if  my  father  should 
escape  the  jaws  of  Libby  and  return,  it  was  for  me 
to  be  glad  if  he  found  a  quiet  grave  instead  of  a 
dishonored  daughter.  Further,  that  if  I  crossed 
him,  who  was  power  itself,  by  any  boyish  exhibi 
tion  of  hate,  I  would  find  that  any  odium  I  might 
invoke  would  fall  on  her  and  not  on  him,  making 
me  an  abhorrence,  not  only  to  the  world  at  large, 
but  to  the  very  father  in  whose  interest  I  might 
pretend  to  act. 

"  I  was  young  and  without  worldly  experience. 
I  yielded  to  these  arguments,  but  I  cursed  him 
where  he  stood.  With  his  hand  pressing  heavily 
upon  me,  I  cursed  him  to  his  face;  then  I  went 
back  to  my  sister. 

"  Had  she,  by  some  supernatural  power,  listened 
to  our  talk,  or  had  she  really  been  visited  by  some 
dream,  that  she  looked  so  changed  ?  There  was  a 
feverish  light  in  her  eye,  and  something  like  the 
shadow  of  a  smile  on  her  lips.  Mrs.  Poindexter 
was  with  her ;  Mrs.  Poindexter,  whose  face  was  a 
mask  we  never  tried  to  penetrate.  But  when  she 


202 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

had  left  us  alone  again,  then  Evelyn  spoke,  and  I 
saw  what  her  dream  had  been. 

" '  Felix,'  she  cried  as  I  approached  her  trem 
bling  with  my  own  emotions  and  half  afraid  of 
hers,  '  there  is  still  one  hope  for  me.  It  has  come 
to  me  while  you  have  been  away.  Edward — he 
loves  me — did — perhaps  he  would  forgive.  If  he 
would  take  me  into  his  protection  (I  see  you  know 
it  all,  Felix)  then  I  might  grow  happy  again — well 
— strong — good.  Do  you  think — oh,  you  are  a 
child,  what  do  you  know? — but — but  before  I  turn 
my  face  forever  to  the  wall  try  if  he  will  see  me — 
try,  try — with  your  boy's  wit — your  clever  schemes, 
to  get  him  here  unknown  to — to — the  one  I  fear,  I 
hate — and  then,  then,  if  he  bids  me  live,  I  will  live 
and  if  he  bids  me  die,  I  will  die ;  and  all  will  be 
ended.' 

"  I  was  an  ignorant  boy.  I  knew  men  no  more 
than  I  knew  women,  and  yielding  to  her  impor 
tunities,  I  promised  to  see  Edward  and  plan  for  an 
interview  without  her  guardian's  knowledge.  I 
was,  as  Evelyn  had  said,  keen  in  those  days  and 
full  of  resources,  and  I  easily  managed  it.  Ed 
ward,  who  had  watched  from  the  garden  as  I  had 
from  the  door,  was  easily  persuaded  to  climb  her 

lattice  in  search  of  what  he  had  every  reason  to 
203 


The  Circular  Study 

believe  would  be  his  last  earthly  interview  with 
his  darling.  As  his  eager  form  bounded  into  the 
room  I  tottered  forth,  carrying  with  me  a  vision 
of  her  face  as  she  rose  to  meet — what  ?  I  dared 
not  think  or  attempt  to  foresee.  Falling  on  my 
knees  I  waited  the  issue.  Alas  !  It  was  a  speedy 
one.  A  stifled  moan  from  her,  the  sound  of  a 
hoarse  farewell  from  him,  told  me  that  his  love 
had  failed  her,  and  that  her  doom  was  sealed. 
Creeping  back  to  her  side  as  quickly  as  my  failing 
courage  admitted,  I  found  her  face  turned  to  the 
wall,  from  which  it  never  again  looked  back; 
while  presently,  before  the  hour  was  passed, 
shouts  ringing  through  the  town  proclaimed  that 
young  Kissam  had  shot  himself.  She  heard,  and 
died  that  night.  In  her  last  hour  she  had  fancies. 
She  thought  she  saw  her  father,  and  her  prayers 
for  mercy  were  heart-rending.  Then  she  thought 
she  saw  him,  that  demon,  her  executioner,  and 
cringed  and  moaned  against  the  wall. 

"  But  enough  of  this.  Two  days  after,  I  walked 
between  him  and  her  silent  figure  outstretched 
for  burial.  I  had  promised  that  no  eye  but  mine 
should  look  upon  her,  no  other  hand  touch  her, 
and  I  kept  my  word,  even  when  the  impossible 

happened  and  her  father  rose  up  in  the  street  be- 
204 


The  Secret  of  the  Cadwaladers 

fore  us.  Quietly,  and  in  honor,  she  was  carried  to 
her  grave,  and  then — then,  in  the  solitude  of  the 
retreat  I  had  found  for  him,  I  told  our  father  all, 
and  why  I  had  denied  him  the  only  comfort  which 
seemed  left  to  him — a  last  look  at  his  darling 
daughter's  face." 


205 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  OATH. 

A  SIGH  from  the  panting  breast  of  Amos  Cad- 
walader  followed  these  words.  Plainer  than  speech 
it  told  of  a  grief  still  fresh  and  an  agony  still 
unappeased,  though  thirty  years  had  passed  away 
since  the  unhappy  hour  of  which  Felix  spoke. 

Felix,  echoing  it,  went  quickly  on : 

"  It  was  dusk  when  I  told  my  story,  and  from 
dark  to  dawn  we  sat  with  eyes  fixed  on  each  other's 
face,  without  sleep  and  without  rest.  Then  we 
sought  John  Poindexter. 

"  Had  he  shunned  us  we  might  have  had  mercy, 
but  he  met  us  openly,  quietly,  and  with  all  the 
indifference  of  one  who  cannot  measure  feeling, 
because  he  is  incapable  of  experiencing  it  himself. 
His  first  sentence  evinced  this.  '  Spare  your 
selves,  spare  me  all  useless  recriminations.  The 
girl  is  dead;  I  cannot  call  her  back  again.  En 
joy  your  life,  your  eating  and  your  drinking,  your 

getting  and  your  spending;   it  is  but  for  a  few 
206 


The  Oath 

more  years  at  best.  Why  harp  on  old  griefs  ? ' 
His  last  word  was  a  triumph.  '  When  a  man  cares 
for  nothing  or  nobody,  it  is  useless  to  curse  him.' 

"  Ah,  that  was  it !  That  was  the  secret  of  his 
power.  He  cared  for  nothing  and  for  no  one,  not 
even  for  himself.  We  felt  the  blow,  and  bent  un 
der  it.  But  before  leaving  him  and  the  town,  we 
swore,  your  father  and  I,  that  we  would  yet  make 
that  cold  heart  feel ;  that  some  day,  in  some  way, 
we  would  cause  that  impassive  nature  to  suffer  as 
he  had  made  us  suffer,  however  happy  he  might 
seem  or  however  closely  his  prosperity  might  cling 
to  him.  That  was  thirty  years  ago,  and  that  oath 
has  not  yet  been  fulfilled. " 

Felix  paused.  Thomas  lifted  his  head,  but  the 
old  man  would  not  let  him  speak.  "  There  are 
men  who  forget  in  a  month,  others  who  forget  in 
a  year.  I  have  never  forgotten,  nor  has  Felix 
here.  When  you  were  born  (I  had  married  again, 
in  the  hope  of  renewed  joy)  I  felt,  I  know  not 
why,  that  Evelyn's  avenger  was  come.  And 
when,  a  year  or  so  after  this  event,  we  heard  that 
God  had  forgotten  John  Poindexter's  sins,  or,  per 
haps,  remembered  them,  and  that  a  child  was 
given  him  also,  after  eighteen  years  of  married 

life,  I  looked  upon  your  bonny  face  and  saw — or 

207 


The  Circular  Study 

thought  I  saw — a  possible  means  of  bringing 
about  the  vengeance  to  which  Felix  and  I  had  dedi 
cated  our  lives. 

"  You  grew ;  your  ardent  nature,  generous  tem 
per,  and  facile  mind  promised  an  abundant  man 
hood,  and  when  your  mother  died,  leaving  me  for 
a  second  time  a  widower,  I  no  longer  hesitated  to 
devote  you  to  the  purpose  for  which  you  seemed 
born.  Thomas,  do  you  remember  the  beginning 
of  that  journey  which  finally  led  you  far  from  me? 
How  I  bore  you  on  my  shoulder  along  a  dusty 
road,  till  arrived  within  sight  of  his  home,  I  raised 
you  from  among  the  tombs  and,  showing  you  those 
distant  gables  looming  black  against  the  twilight's 
gold,  dedicated  you  to  the  destruction  of  whatever 
happiness  might  hereafter  develop  under  his  in 
fant's  smile?  You  do?  I  did  not  think  you 
could  forget ;  and  now  that  the  time  has  come  for 
the  promise  of  that  hour  to  be  fulfilled,  I  call  on 
you  again,  Thomas.  Avenge  our  griefs,  avenge 
your  sister.  Poindexters  girl  has  grown  to  wom 
anhood." 

At  the  suggestion  conveyed  in  these  words 
Thomas  recoiled  in  horror.  But  the  old  man 
failed  to  read  his  emotion  rightly.  Clutching  his 

arm,  he  proceeded  passionately : 
208 


The  Oath 

"  Woo  her !  Win  her !  They  do  not  know  you. 
You  will  be  Thomas  Adams  to  them,  not  Thomas 
Cadwalader.  Gather  this  budding  flower  into  your 
bosom,  and  then —  Oh,  he  must  love  his  child ! 
Through  her  we  have  our  hand  on  his  heart. 
Make  her  suffer — she's  but  a  country  girl,  and 
you  have  lived  in  Paris — make  her  suffer,  and  if, 
in  doing  so,  you  cause  him  to  blench,  then  believe 
I  am  looking  upon  you  from  the  grave  I  go  to,  and 
be  happy ;  for  you  will  not  have  lived,  nor  will  I 
have  died,  in  vain. " 

H-e  paused  to  catch  his  failing  breath,  but  his 
indomitable  will  triumphed  over  death  and  held 
Thomas  under  a  spell  that  confounded  his  in 
stincts  and  made  him  the  puppet  of  feelings  which 
had  accumulated  their  force  to  fill  him,  in  one 
hour,  with  a  hate  which  it  had  taken  his  father 
and  brother  a  quarter  of  a  century  to  bring  to  the 
point  of  active  vengeance. 

"I  shall  die;  I  am  dying  now,"  the  old  man 
panted  on.  "  I  shall  never  live  to  see  your  tri 
umph  ;  I  shall  never  behold  John  Poindexter's  eye 
glaze  with  those  sufferings  which  rend  the  entrails 
and  make  a  man  question  if  there  is  a  God  in 
heaven.  But  I  shall  know  it  where  I  am.  No 

mounded   earth   can  keep  my  spirit  down  when 
209 


The  Circular  Study 

John  Poindexter  feels  his  doom.  I  shall  be  con 
scious  of  his  anguish  and  shall  rejoice;  and  when 
in  the  depths  of  darkness  to  which  I  go  he  comes 
faltering  along  my  way — 

"  Boy,  boy,  you  have  been  reared  for  this.  God 
made  you  handsome ;  man  has  made  you  strong ; 
you  have  made  yourself  intelligent  and  accom 
plished.  You  have  only  to  show  yourself  to  this 
country  girl  to  become  the  master  of  her  will  and 
affection,  and  these  once  yours,  remember  me! 
Remember  Evelyn  /  " 

Never  had  Thomas  been  witness  to  such  pas 
sion.  It  swept  him  along  in  a  burning  stream 
against  which  he  sought  to  contend  and  could  not. 
Raising  his  hand  in  what  he  meant  as  a  response 
to  that  appeal,  he  endeavored  to  speak,  but  failed. 
His  father  misinterpreted  his  silence,  and  bitterly 
cried : 

"  You  are  dumb !  You  do  not  like  the  task ; 
are  virtuous,  perhaps — you  who  have  lived  for  years 
alone  and  unhampered  in  Paris.  Or  you  have  in 
stincts  of  honor,  habits  of  generosity  that  blind 
you  to  wrongs  that  for  a  longer  space  than  your 
lifetime  have  cried  aloud  to  heaven  for  vengeance. 
Thomas,  Thomas,  if  you  should  fail  me  now " 

"He  will  not  fail  you,"  broke  in  the  voice  of 


2IO 


The  Oath 

Felix,  calm,  suave,  and  insinuating.  "I  have 
watched  him ;  I  know  him ;  he  will  not  fail  you. " 
Thomas  shuddered ;  he  had  forgotten  Felix,  but 
as  he  heard  these  words  he  could  no  longer  delay 
looking  at  the  man  who  had  offered  to  stand  his 
surety  for  the  performance  of  the  unholy  deed  his 
father  exacted  from  him.  Turning,  he  saw  a  man 
who  in  any  place  and  under  any  roof  would  attract 
attention,  awake  admiration  and — yes,  fear.  He 
was  not  a  large  man,  not  so  large  as  himself,  but 
the  will  that  expressed  itself  in  frenzy  on  his 
father's  lips  showed  quiet  and  inflexible  in  the 
gray  eye  resting  upon  his  own  with  a  power  he 
could  never  hope  to  evade.  As  he  looked  and 
comprehended,  a  steel  band  seemed  to  compress 
his  heart ;  yet  he  was  conscious  at  the  same  time 
that  the  personality  before  which  he  thus  suc 
cumbed  was  as  elegant  as  his  own  and  as  perfectly 
trained  in  all  the  ways  of  men  and  of  life.  Even  the 
air  of  poverty  which  had  shocked  him  in  his  fa 
ther's  person  and  surroundings  was  not  visible  here. 
Felix  was  both  well  and  handsomely  clad,  and  could 
hold  his  own  as  the  elder  brother  in  every  respect 
most  insisted  upon  by  the  Parisian  gentleman. 
The  long  and,  to  Thomas,  mysterious  curtain  of 

dark-green  serge  which  stretched  behind  him  from 
14  211 


The  Circular  Study 

floor  to  ceiling  threw  out  his  pale  features  with  a 
remarkable  distinctness,  and  for  an  instant  Thomas 
wondered  if  it  had  been  hung  there  for  the  purpose 
of  producing  this  effect.  But  the  demand  in  his 
brother's  face  drew  his  attention,  and,  bowing  his 
head,  he  stammered : 

"  I  am  at  your  command,  Felix.  I  am  at  your 
command,  father.  I  cannot  say  more.  Only  re 
member  that  I  never  saw  Evelyn,  that  she  died 
before  I  was  born,  and  that  I — 

But  here  Felix's  voice  broke  in,  kind,  but  meas 
ured: 

"  Perhaps  there  is  some  obstacle  we  have  not 
reckoned  upon.  You  may  already  love  some 
woman  and  desire  to  marry  her.  If  so,  it  need  be 
no  impediment " 

But  here  Thomas's  indignation  found  voice. 

"No,"  said  he;  "I  am  heart-whole  save  for  a 
few  lingering  fancies  which  are  fast  becoming 
vanishing  dreams. " 

He  seemed  to  have  lived  years  since  entering 
this  room. 

"  Your  heart  will  not  be  disturbed  now,"  com 
mented  Felix.  "  I  have  seen  the  girl.  I  went 
there  on  purpose  a  year  ago.  She's  as  pale  as  a 

snow-drop   and    as   listless.       You   will    not    be 
212 


The  Oath 

obliged  to  recall  to  mind  the  gay  smiles  of  Paris 
ian  ladies  to  be  proof  against  her  charms." 

Thomas  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  She  must  be  made  to  know  the  full  intoxica 
tion  of  hope,"  Felix  proceeded  in  his  clear  and 
cutting  voice.  "  To  realize  despair  she  must  first 
experience  every  delight  that  comes  with  satisfied 
love.  Have  you  the  skill  as  well  as  heart  to  play 
to  the  end  a  role  which  will  take  patience  as  well 
as  dissimulation,  courage  as  well  as  subtlety,  and 
that  union  of  will  and  implacability  which  finds  its 
food  in  tears  and  is  strengthened,  rather  than  less 
ened,  by  the  suffering  of  its  victim  ?  " 

"  I  have  the  skill,"  murmured  Thomas, 
"but " 

"You  lack  the  incentive,"  finished  Felix. 
"Well,  well,  we  must  have  patience  with  your 
doubts  and  hesitations.  Our  hate  has  been  fos 
tered  by  memories  of  her  whom,  as  you  say,  you 
have  never  seen.  Look,  then,  Thomas.  Look  at 
your  sister  as  she  was,  as  she  is  for  us.  Look  at 
her,  and  think  of  her  as  despoiled,  killed,  forgotten 
by  Poindexter.  Have  you  ever  gazed  upon  a  more 
moving  countenance,  or  one  in  which  beauty  con 
tends  with  a  keener  prophecy  of  woe?  " 

Not  knowing  what  to  expect,  anticipating  al- 


The  Circular  Study 

most  to  be  met  by  her  shade,  Thomas  followed  the 
direction  of  his  brother's  lifted  hand,  and  beheld, 
where  but  a  minute  before  that  dismal  curtain  had 
hung,  a  blaze  of  light,  in  the  midst  of  which  he 
saw  a  charming,  but  tragic,  figure,  such  as  no  gal 
lery  in  all  Europe  had  ever  shown  him,  possibly 
because  no  other  limned  face  or  form  had  ever  ap 
pealed  to  his  heart.  It  did  not  seem  a  picture,  it 
seemed  her  very  self,  a  gentle,  loving  self  that 
breathed  forth  all  the  tenderness  he  had  vainly 
sought  for  in  his  living  relatives ;  and  falling  at 
her  feet,  he  cried  out : 

"Do  not  look  at  me  so  reproachfully,  sweet 
Evelyn.  I  was  born  to  avenge  you,  and  I  will. 
John  Poindexter  shall  never  go  down  in  peace  to 
his  tomb." 

A  sigh  of  utter  contentment  came  from  the 
direction  of  the  bed. 

"  Swear  it !  "  cried  his  father,  holding  out  his 
arms  before  him  in  the  form  of  a  cross. 

"  Yes,  swear  it !  "  repeated  Felix,  laying  his  own 
hand  on  those  crossed  arms. 

Thomas  drew  near,  and  laid  his  hand  beside  that 
of  Felix. 

"  I  swear,"  he  began,  raising  his  voice  above  the 

tempest,  which  poured  gust  after  gust  against  the 
214 


The  Oath 

house.  "I  swear  to  win  the  affections  of  Eva 
Poindexter,  and  then,  when  her  heart  is  all  mine, 
to  cast  her  back  in  anguish  and  contumely  on  the 
breast  of  John  Poindexter." 

"  Good !  "  came  from  what  seemed  to  him  an 
immeasurable  distance.  Then  the  darkness, 
which  since  the  taking  of  this  oath  had  settled 
over  his  senses,  fell,  and  he  sank  insensible  at  the 
feet  of  his  dying  father. 

Amos  Cadwalader  died  that  night;  but  not 
without  one  awful  scene  more.  About  midnight 
he  roused  from  the  sleep  which  had  followed  the 
exciting  incidents  I  have  just  related,  and  glanc 
ing  from  Thomas  to  Felix,  sitting  on  either  side 
of  the  bed,  fixed  his  eyes  with  a  strange  gleam 
upon  the  door. 

"  Ah !  "  he  ejaculated,  "  a  visitor !  John  Poin 
dexter  !  He  comes  to  ask  my  forgiveness  before 
I  set  out  on  my  dismal  journey." 

The  sarcasm  of  his  tone,  the  courtesy  of  his 
manner,  caused  the  hair  to  stir  on  the  heads  of  his 
two  sons.  That  he  saw  his  enemy  as  plainly  as 
he  saw  them,  neither  could  doubt. 

"Does  he  dread  my  meeting  with  Evelyn? 
Does  he  wish  to  placate  me  before  I  am  joined 
215 


The  Circular  Study 

to  that  pathetic  shade?  He  shall  not  be  disap 
pointed.  I  forgive  you,  John  Poindexter !  I  for 
give  you  my  daughter's  shame,  my  blighted  life.  I 
am  dying;  but  I  leave  one  behind  who  will  not 
forgive  you.  I  have  a  son,  an  avenger  of  the 

dead,  who  yet  lives  to — to " 

He  fell  back.  With  these  words,  which  seemed 
to  seal  Thomas  to  his  task,  Amos  Cadwalader 
died. 


216 


CHAPTER    III. 

EVA. 

FELIX  had  not  inherited  his  father's  incapacity 
for  making  money.  In  the  twenty  years  that  had 
passed  since  Thomas  had  been  abroad  he  had  built 
up  a  fortune,  which  he  could  not  induce  his  father 
to  share,  but  which  that  father  was  perfectly  will 
ing  to  see  devoted  to  their  mutual  revenge.  There 
was  meaning,  therefore,  in  the  injunction  Felix 
gave  his  brother  on  his  departure  for  Montgomery : 

"  I  have  money ;  spend  it ;  spend  what  you  will, 
and  when  your  task  is  completed,  there  will  still  be 
some  left  for  your  amusement." 

Thomas  bowed.  "  The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his 
hire,"  was  his  thought.  "  And  you  ?  "  he  asked, 
looking  about  the  scanty  walls,  which  seemed  to 
have  lost  their  very  excuse  for  being  now  that  his 
father  had  died.  "  Will  you  remain  here  ?  " 

Felix's  answer  was  abrupt,  but  positive.  "  No ; 
I  go  to  New  York  to-morrow.  I  have  rented  a 

house  there,  which  you  may  one  day  wish  to  share. 
217 


The  Circular  Study 

The  name  under  which  I  have  leased  it  is  Adams, 
Felix  Adams.  As  such  you  will  address  me. 
Cadwalader  is  a  name  that  must  not  leave  your 
lips  in  Montgomery,  nor  must  you  forget  that  my 
person  is  known  there,  otherwise  we  might  not 
have  been  dependent  on  you  for  the  success  of  our 
revenge. "  And  he  smiled,  fully  conscious  of  be 
ing  the  handsomer  man  of  the  two.  "  And  now 
how  about  those  introductions  we  enjoined  you  to 
bring  from  Paris  ?  " 

The  history  of  the  next  few  weeks  can  best  be 
understood  by  reading  certain  letters  sent  by 
Thomas  to  Felix,  by  examining  a  diary  drawn  up 
by  the  same  writer  for  his  own  relief  and  satisfac 
tion.  The  letters  will  be  found  on  the  left,  and 
the  diary  on  the  right,  of  the  double  columns 
hereby  submitted.  The  former  are  a  summary  of 
facts ;  the  latter  is  a  summary  of  feelings.  Both 
are  necessary  to  a  right  comprehension  of  the 
situation. 

FIRST  LETTER.  FIRST    ENTRY. 

DEAR  FELIX  :  I  could  not  write  Felix  the 

I  am  here ;  I  have     true  story  of  this  day.     Why  ? 
seen  her.     She  is,     And   why   must    I   write   it 
218 


Eva 


as  you  have  said,  a 
pale  blonde.  To 
morrow  I  present 
my  credentials  to 
John  Poindexter. 
From  what  I  have 
already  e  x  p  e  r  i- 
enced  I  anticipate 
a  favorable  recep 
tion. 

Yours  afL, 
THOMAS. 


here  ?  To  turn  my  mind  from 
dwelling  on  it  ?  Perhaps.  I 
do  not  seem  to  understand 
my  own  feelings,  or  why  I 
begin  to  dread  my  task,  while 
ardently  pressing  forward  to 
accomplish  it. 

I  have  seen  her.  This 
much  I  wrote  to  Felix,  but  I 
did  not  say  where  our  meet 
ing  took  place  or  how.  How 
could  I?  Would  he  under 
stand  how  one  of  Poindexter's 
blood  could  be  employed  in 
a  gracious  act,  or  how  I,  filled 
with  a  purpose  that  has  made 
my  heart  dark  as  hell  ever 
since  I  embraced  it,  could 
find  that  heart  swell  and  that 
purpose  sink  at  my  first 
glimpse  of  the  face  whose 
beauty  I  have  sworn  to  devote 
to  agony  and  tears  ?  Surely, 
surely  Felix  would  have 
been  stronger,  and  yet 

I  went  from  the  cars  to  the 
cemetery.  Before  entering 
the  town  or  seeing  to  my 
own  comfort,  I  sought  Eve- 

219 


The  Circular  Study 

lyn's  grave,  there  to  re 
new  my  oath  in  the  place 
where,  nineteen  years  ago, 
my  father  held  me  up,  a  four- 
year-old  child,  in  threat, 
toward  John  Poindexter's 
home.  I  had  succeeded  in 
finding  the  old  and  neglected 
stone  which  marked  her  rest 
ing-place,  and  was  bending 
in  the  sunset  light  to  exam 
ine  it,  when  the  rustle  of  a 
woman's  skirts  attracted  my 
attention,  and  I  perceived 
advancing  toward  me  a  young 
girl  in  a  nimbus  of  rosy  light 
which  seemed  to  lift  her  from 
the  ground  and  give  to  her 
delicate  figure  and  strangely 
illumined  head  an  ethereal 
aspect  which  her  pure  fea 
tures  and  tender  bearing  did 
not  belie.  In  her  arms  she 
carried  a  huge  cluster  of 
snow-white  lilies,  and  when  I 
observed  that  her  eyes  were 
directed  not  on  me,  but  on 
the  grave  beside  which  I 
stood,  I  moved  aside  into  the 

220 


Eva 

shadow  of  some  bushes  and 
watched  her  while  she 
strewed  these  flowers — em 
blems  of  innocence — over  the 
grave  I  had  just  left. 

What  did  it  mean,  and  who 
was  this  young  girl  who  hon 
ored  with  such  gracious  me 
morials  the  grave  of  my  long- 
buried  sister?  As  she  rose 
from  her  task  I  could  no 
longer  restrain  either  my 
emotion  or  the  curiosity  with 
which  her  act  had  inspired 
me.  Advancing,  I  greeted 
her  with  all  the  respect  her 
appearance  called  for,  and 
noting  that  her  face  was  even 
more  beautiful  when  lifted  in 
speech  than  when  bent  in 
gravity  over  her  flowers,  I 
asked  her,  in  the  indifferent 
tone  of  a  stranger,  who  was 
buried  in  this  spot,  and  why 
she,  a  mere  girl,  dropped 
flowers  upon  a  grave  the 
mosses  of  whose  stone  proved 
it  to  have  been  dug  long  be 
fore  she  was  born. 

221 


The  Circular  Study 

Her  answer  caused  me  a 
shock,  full  as  my  life  has 
lately  been  of  startling  ex 
periences.  "  I  strew  flowers 
here,"  said  she,  "because  the 
girl  who  lies  buried  under 
this  stone  had  the  same 
birthday  as  myself.  I  never 
saw  her,  it's  true,  but  she 
died  in  my  father's  house 
when  she  was  no  older  than 
I  am  to-day,  and  since  I  have 
become  a  woman  and  realize 
what  loss  there  is  in  dying 
young,  I  have  made  it  a  cus 
tom  to  share  with  her  my 
birthday  flowers.  She  was 
a  lily,  they  say,  in  appearance 
and  character,  and  so  I  bring 
her  lilies." 

It  was  Eva  Poindexter,  the 
girl  I —  And  she  was  strew 
ing  flowers  on  Evelyn's  grave. 


LETTER    II. 

DEAR  FELIX: 

I  have  touched 
the  hand  of  John 


ENTRY  II. 

I  no  longer  feel  myself  a 
true  man.  John  Poindexter 
is  cold  in  appearance,  hard 

222 


Eva 


Poindexter.  I  n 
order  to  win  a 
place  in  the  good 
graces  of  the 
daughter  I  must 
please  the  father, 
or  at  least  attract 
his  favorable  no 
tice.  I  have  rea 
son  to  think  I  have 
done  this. 
Very  truly, 
THOMAS. 


in  manner,  and  inflexible  in 
opinion,  but  he  does  not  in 
spire  the  abhorrence  I  antici 
pated  nor  awaken  in  me  the 
one  thought  due  to  the  mem 
ory  of  my  sister.  Is  it  be 
cause  he  is  Eva's  father? 
Has  the  lovelinesss  of  the 
daughter  cast  a  halo  about 
the  parent  ?  If  so,  Felix  has 
a  right  to  execrate  me  and 
my  father  to 


LETTER  III. 

DEAR  FELIX  : 

The  introduc 
tions  furnished  me 
have  made  me  re 
ceived  everywhere. 
There  is  consid 
erable  wealth  here 
and  many  fine 
houses.  Conse 
quently  I  find  my 
self  in  a  congenial 
society,  of  which 
she  is  the  star. 


ENTRY   III. 

She  is  beautiful.  She  has 
the  daintiness  of  the  lily  and 
the  flush  of  the  rose.  But  it 
is  not  her  beauty  that  moves 
me ;  it  is  the  strange  sweet 
ness  of  her  nature,  which, 
nevertheless,  has  no  weak 
ness  in  it ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
possesses  peculiar  strength, 
which  becomes  instantly  ap 
parent  at  the  call  of  duty. 
Could  Felix  have  imagined 
such  a  Poindexter?  I  can- 

223 


The  Circular  Study 


Did  I  say  that  he 
was,  as  of  old,  the 
chief  man  of  the 
town  ? 

Yours  truly, 
THOMAS. 


LETTER   IV. 

DEAR  FELIX: 

Rides,  dances, 
games,  nonsense 
generally.  My 
interest  in  this 
young  girl  is  be 
ginning  to  be  pub- 


not  contemplate  such  loveli 
ness  and  associate  it  with  the 
execrable  sin  which  calls 
down  vengeance  upon  this 
house.  I  cannot  even  dwell 
upon  my  past  life.  All  that 
is  dark,  threatening,  secret, 
and  revengeful  slips  from 
me  under  her  eye,  and  I 
dream  of  what  is  pure,  true, 
satisfying,  and  ennobling. 
And  this  by  the  influence  of 
her  smile,  rather  than  of  her 
words.  Have  I  been  given 
an  angel  to  degrade?  Or 
am  I  so  blind  as  to  behold  a 
saint  where  others  (Felix,  let 
us  say)  would  see  only  a 
pretty  woman  with  unex 
pected  attractions  ? 

ENTRY   IV. 

All  will  not  go  as  easily  as 
Felix  imagines.  Eva  Poin- 
dexter  may  be  a  country  girl, 
but  she  has  her  standards, 
too,  and  mere  grace  and  at 
tainment  are  not  sufficient  to 
win  her.  Have  I  the  oth- 

224 


Eva 


licly  recognized. 
She  alone  seems 
ignorant  of  it. 
Sometimes  I  won 
der  if  our  scheme 
will  fail  through 
her  impassibility 
and  more  than  con 
ventional  i  n  n  o- 
cence.  I  am  some 
times  afraid  she 
will  never  love  me. 
Yet  I  have  exerted 
myself  to  please 
her.  Indeed,  I 
could  not  have  ex 
erted  myself  more. 
To-day  I  went 
twenty-five  miles 
on  horseback  to 
procure  her  a  trifle 
she  fancied. 
Yours  aff., 
THOMAS. 


er    qualities    she    demands? 
That  remains  to  be  seen.     I 
have    one  she  never  dreams 
of.     Will  its  shadow  so  over 
whelm  the  rest  that  her  nat 
urally  pure  spirit  will  shrink 
from  me  just  at  the  moment 
when  I  think  her  mine?     I 
cannot    tell,   and   the   doubt 
creates    a    hell    within    me^ 
Something   deeper,  stronger, 
more  imperious  than  my  re 
venge  makes  the  winning  of 
this  girl's  heart  a  necessity 
to  me.     I  have  forgotten  my 
purpose    in    this    desire.     I 
have  forgotten  everything  ex 
cept  that  she  is  the  one  wom 
an  of  my  life,  and  that  I  can 
never  rest  till   her   heart    is 
wholly    mine.     Good     God ! 
Have  I  become  a  slave  where 
I  hoped  to  be  master  ?     Have 
I,  Thomas  Cadwalader,  given 
my  soul  into  the  keeping  of 
this  innocent  girl  ?     I  do  not 
even  stop  to  inquire.     To  win 
her — that  is  all  for  which  I 
now  live. 
225 


The  Circular  Study 


LETTER   V. 

DEAR  FELIX: 

She  may  not  care 
for  me,  but  she  is 
interested  in  no 
one  else.  Of  this 
I  am  assured  by 
John  Poindexter, 
who  seems  very 
desirous  of  aiding 
me  in  my  attempt 
to  win  his  daugh 
ter's  heart.  Hard 
won,  close  bound. 
If  she  ever  comes 
to  love  me  it  will 
be  with  the  force 
of  a  very  strong  na 
ture.  The  pale 
blonde  has  a  heart. 

Yours  aff., 
THOMAS. 


ENTRY    V. 

If  it  were  passion  only  that 
I  feel,  I  might  have  some 
hope  of  restraining  it.  But 
it  is  something  more,  some 
thing  deeper,  something 
which  constrains  me  to  look 
with  her  eyes,  hear  with  her 
ears,  and  throb  with  her 
heart.  My  soul,  rather  than 
my  senses,  is  enthralled.  I 
want  to  win  her,  not  for  my 
own  satisfaction,  but  to  make 
her  happy.  I  want  to  prove 
to  her  that  goodness  exists 
in  this  world — I,  who  came 
here  to  corrode  and  destroy; 
I,  who  am  still  pledged  to  do 
so.  Ah,  Felix,  Felix,  you 
should  have  chosen  an  older 
man  for  your  purpose,  or  re 
membered  that  he  who  could 
be  influenced  as  I  was  by 
family  affections  possesses  a 
heart  too  soft  for  such  in 
famy. 


226 


Eva 


ENTRY   VI. 


The  name  of  Evelyn  is 
never  mentioned  in  this 
house.  Sometimes  I  think 
that  he  has  forgotten  her, 
and  find  in  this  thought  the 
one  remaining  spur  to  my 
revenge.  Forgotten  her ! 
Strange,  that  his  child,  born 
long  after  his  victim's  death, 
should  remember  this  poor 
girl,  and  he  forget !  Yet  on 
the  daughter  the  blow  is 
planned  to  fall — if  it  does 
fall.  Should  I  not  pray  that 
it  never  may?  That  she 
should  loathe  instead  of  love 
me  ?  Distrust,  instead  of  con 
fide  in  my  honor  and  affec 
tion?  But  who  can  pray 
against  himself?  Eva  Poin- 
dexter  must  love  me,  even  if 
I  am  driven  to  self-destruc 
tion  by  my  own  remorse, 
after  she  has  confided  her 
heart  to  my  keeping. 


15  227 


The   Circular  Study 
LETTER   VI.  ENTRY   VII. 


DEAR  FELIX: 

Will  you  send 
me  a  few  exquisite 
articles  from  Tif 
fany's  ?  I  see  that 
her  father  expects 
me  to  give  her 
presents.  I  think 
she  will  accept 
them.  If  she 
does,  we  may  both 
rest  easy  as  to  the 
state  of  her  affec 
tions. 

Very  truly, 
THOMAS. 


I  cannot  bring  myself  to 
pass  a  whole  day  away  from 
her  side.  If  Felix  were  here 
and  could  witness  my  assidui 
ty,  he  would  commend  me  in 
his  cold  and  inflexible  heart 
for  the  singleness  with  which 
I  pursue  my  purpose.  He 
would  say  to  me,  in  the  lan 
guage  of  one  of  his  letters : 
"  You  are  not  disappointing 
us. "  Us  !  As  if  our  father 
still  hovered  near,  sharing  our 
purposes  and  hope.  Alas ! 
if  he  does,  he  must  penetrate 
more  deeply  than  Felix  into 
the  heart  of  this  matter; 
must  see  that  with  every  day's 
advantage — and  I  now  think 
each  day  brings  its  advantage 
— I  shrink  further  and  further 
from  the  end  they  planned  for 
me ;  the  end  which  can  alone 
justify  my  advance  in  her 
affections.  I  am  a  traitor  to 
my  oath,  for  I  now  know  I 
shall  never  disappoint  Eva's 

228 


Eva 

faith  in  me.  I  could  not. 
Rather  would  I  meet  my 
father's  accusing  eyes  on  the 
verge  of  that  strange  world 
to  which  he  has  gone,  or 
Felix's  recriminations  here, 
or  my  own  contempt  for  the 
weakness  which  has  made  it 
possible  for  me  to  draw  back 
from  the  brink  of  this  wicked 
revenge  to  which  I  have  de 
voted  myself. 


LETTER    VII. 

DEAR  FELIX: 

This  morning  I 
passed  under  the 
window  you  have 
described  to  me  as 
Evelyn's.  I  did  it 
with  a  purpose.  I 
wanted  to  test  my 
own  emotions  and 
to  see  how  much 
feeling  it  would 
arouse  in  me. 
Enough. 


ENTRY  VIII. 

I  hate  John  Poindexter, 
yes,  I  hate  him,  but  I  can 
never  hate  his  daughter. 
Only  Felix  could  so  confound 
the  father  with  the  child  as  to 
visit  his  anger  upon  this  gen 
tle  embodiment  of  all  that  is 
gracious,  all  that  is  trust 
worthy,  all  that  is  fascinating 
in  woman.  But  am  I  called 
upon  to  hate  her  ?  Am  I  not 
in  a  way  required  to  love  her  ? 
I  will  ask  Felix.  No,  I  can- 

229 


The  Circular  Study 


Eva  accepted  the 
brooch.  It  was  the 
simplest  thing  you 
sent. 

Aff., 

THOMAS. 


not  ask  Felix.  He  would 
never  comprehend  her  charm 
or  its  influence  over  me.  He 
would  have  doubts  and  come 
at  once  to  Montgomery. 
Good  God !  Am  I  proving 
such  a  traitor  to  my  own  flesh 
and  blood  that  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  Felix  contemplat 
ing  even  in  secret  the  unsus 
picious  form  of  his  enemy's 
daughter  ? 


LETTER   VIII. 

DEAR  FELIX  : 

A  picnic  on  the 
mountains.  It  fell 
to  me  to  escort 
Miss  Poindexter 
down  a  dangerous 
slope.  Though  no 
words  of  affection 
passed  between  us 
(she  is  not  yet 
ready  for  them),  I 
feel  that  I  have 
made  a  decided  ad- 


ENTRY   IX. 

I  have  touched  her  hand ! 
I  have  felt  her  sweet  form 
thrilling  against  mine  as  we 
descended  the  mountain 
ledges  together !  No  man  was 
near,  no  eye — there  were  mo 
ments  in  which  we  were  as 
much  alone  in  the  wide  para 
dise  of  these  wooded  slopes 
as  if  the  world  held  no  other 
breathing  soul.  Yet  I  no 
more  dared  to  press  her  hand, 
or  pour  forth  the  mad  worship 

230 


Eva 


vance  in  her  good 
graces. 
Yours, 

THOMAS. 


of  my  heart  into  her  innocent 
ears,  than  if  the  eyes  of  all 
Paris  had  been  upon  us. 
How  I  love  her!  How  far 
off  and  faint  seem  the  years 
of  that  dead  crime  my  brother 
would  invoke  for  the  punish 
ment  of  this  sweet  soul ! 
Yes,  and  how  remote  that 
awful  hour  in  which  I  knelt 
beneath  the  hand  of  my  dying 
father  and  -swore — Ah,  that 
oath !  That  oath ! 


ENTRY    X. 

The  thing  I  dreaded,  the 
thing  I  might  have  foreseen, 
has  occurred.  Felix  has 
made  his  appearance  in  Mont 
gomery.  I  received  a  com 
munication  to  that  effect  from 
him  to-day ;  a  communication 
in  which  he  commands  me  to 
meet  him  to-night,  at  Evelyn's 
grave,  at  the  witching  hour  of 
twelve.  I  do  not  enjoy  the 
summons.  I  have  a  dread  of 
Felix,  and  begin  to  think  he 

231 


The  Circular  Study 

calculates  upon  stage  devices 
to  control  me.  But  the  day  has 
passed  for  that.  I  will  show 
him  that  I  can  be  no  more  in 
fluenced  in  that  place  and  at 
that  hour  than  I  could  be  in 
this  hotel  room,  with  the  sight 
of  her  little  glove — is  there 
sin  in  such  thefts  ? — lying  on 
the  table  before  us.  Evelyn  ! 
She  is  a  sacred  memory.  But 
the  dead  must  not  interfere 
with  the  living.  Eva  shall 
never  be  sacrificed  to  Evelyn's 
manes,  not  if  John  Poindexter 
lives  out  his  life  to  his  last 
hour  in  peace ;  not  if  Felix — 
well ;  I  need  to  play  the  man ; 
Felix  is  a  formidable  antago 
nist  to  meet,  alone,  in  a  spot  of 
such  rancorous  memories,  at 
an  hour  when  spirits — if  there 
be  spirits — haunt  the  pre 
cincts  of  the  tomb. 

ENTRY    XL 

I  should  not  have  known 
Felix  had  I  met  him  in  the 
street.  How  much  of  a 

232 


Eva 

stranger  he  appeared,  then, 
in  the  faint  moonlight  which 
poured  upon  that  shaded 
spot !  His  very  voice  seemed 
altered,  and  in  his  manner  I 
remarked  a  hesitation  I  had 
not  supposed  him  capable  of 
showing  under  any  circum 
stances.  Nor  were  his  words 
such  as  I  expected.  The  ques 
tions  I  dreaded  most  he  did 
not  ask.  The  recriminations 
I  looked  for  he  did  not  utter. 
He  only  told  me  coldly  that 
my  courtship  must  be  short 
ened  ;  that  the  end  for  which 
we  were  both  prepared  must 
be  hastened,  and  gave  me  two 
weeks  in  which  to  bring  mat 
ters  to  a  climax.  Then  he 
turned  to  Evelyn's  grave,  and 
bending  down,  tried  to  read 
her  name  on  the  mossy  stone. 
t}e  was  so  long  in  doing  this 
that  I  leaned  down  beside  him 
and  laid  my  hand  on  his  shoul 
der.  He  was  trembling,  and 
his  body  was  as  cold  as  the 
stone  he  threw  himself 
233 


The  Circular  Study 

against.  Was  it  the  memory 
of  her  whom  that  stone  cov 
ered  which  had  aroused  this 
emotion?  If  so,  it  was  but 
natural.  To  all  appearance  he 
has  never  in  all  his  life  loved 
any  one  as  he  did  this  un 
happy  sister ;  and  struck  with 
a  respect  for  the  grief  which 
has  outlived  many  a  man's 
lifetime,  I  was  shrinking  back 
when  he  caught  my  hand,  and 
with  a  convulsive  strain,  con 
trasting  strongly  with  his 
tone,  which  was  strangely 
measured,  he  cried,  "Do  not 
forget  the  end !  Do  not  for 
get  John  Poindexter !  his  sin, 
his  indifference  to  my  father's 
grief ;  the  accumulated  suffer 
ings  of  years  which  made 
Amos  Cadwalader  a  hermit 
amongst  men.  I  have  seen  the 
girl ;  she  has  changed — wom 
en  do  change  at  her  age — and 
some  men,  I  do  not  say  you, 
but  some  men  might  think 
her  beautiful.  But  beauty,  if 
she  has  it,  must  not  blind  your 
234 


Eva 

eyes,  which  are  fixed  upon 
another  goal.  Overlook  it; 
overlook  her — you  have  done 
so,  have  you  not  ?  Pale  beau, 
ties  cannot  move  one  who  has 
sat  at  the  feet  of  the  most 
dazzling  of  Parisian  women. 
Keep  your  eyes  on  John  Poin- 
dexter,  the  debt  he  owes  us, 
and  the  suffering  we  have 
promised  him.  That  she  is 
sweet,  gentle,  different  from 
all  we  thought  her,  only  makes 
the  chances  of  reaching  his 
heart  the  greater.  The 
worthier  she  may  be  of  affec 
tions  not  indigenous  to  that 
hard  soul,  the  surer  will  be 
our  grip  upon  his  nature  and 
the  heavier  his  downfall." 

The  old  spell  was  upon  me. 
I  could  neither  answer  nor 
assert  myself.  Letting  go  my 
hand,  he  rose,  and  with  his 
back  to  the  village — I  noticed 
he  had  not  turned  his  face  to 
it  since  coming  to  this  spot — 
he  said:  "I  shall  return  to 
New  York  to-morrow.  In 

235 


The  Circular  Study 


two  weeks  you  will  telegraph 
your  readiness  to  take  up  your 
abode  with  me.  I  have  a 
home  that  will  satisfy  you; 
and  it  will  soon  be  all  your 
own." 

Here  he  gripped  his  heart ; 
and,  dark  as  it  was,  I  detected 
a  strange  convulsion  cross  his 
features  as  he  turned  into  the 
moonlight.  But  it  was  gone 
before  we  could  descend. 

"You  may  hear  from  me 
again,"  he  remarked  some 
what  faintly  as  he  grasped 
my  hand,  and  turned  away  in 
his  own  direction.  I  had  not 
spoken  a  word  during  the 
whole  interview. 


LETTER  IX. 

DEAR  FELIX: 

I  do  not  hear 
from  you.  Are 
you  well,  or  did 
your  journey  affect 
your  health  ?  I 
have  no  especial 


ENTRY   XII. 

I  shall  never  understand 
Felix.  He  has  not  left  the 
town,  but  is  staying  here  in 
hiding,  watching  me,  no 
doubt,  to  see  if  the  signs  of 
weakening  he  doubtless  sus 
pects  in  me  have  a  signifi- 

236 


Eva 


advance  to  report. 
John  Poindexter 
seems  greatly  in 
terested  in  my 
courtship.  Some 
times  he  gives  me 
very  good  advice. 
How  does  that 
strike  you,  Felix? 
Aff., 

THOMAS. 


cance  deep  enough  to  over 
throw  his  planned  revenge.  I 
know  this,  because  I  have  seen 
him  more  than  once  during 
the  last  week,  when  he 
thought  himself  completely 
invisible.  I  have  caught 
sight  of  him  in  Mr.  Poindex- 
ter's  grounds  when  Eva  and  I 
stood  talking  together  in  the 
window.  I  even  saw  him 
once  in  church,  in  a  dark  cor 
ner,  to  be  sure,  but  where  he 
could  keep  his  eye  upon  us- 
sitting  together  in  Mr.  Poin, 
dexter's  pew.  He  seemed  to 
me  thin  that  day.  The  sus 
pense  he  is  under  is  wearing 
upon  him.  Is  it  my  duty  to 
cut  it  short  by  proclaiming 
my  infidelity  to  my  oath  and 
my  determination  to  marry 
the  girl  who  has  made  me 
forget  it  ? 


LETTER    X. 

DEAR  FELIX: 
Miss  Poindexter 


ENTRY  XIII. 

She  loves  me.     Oh,  ecstasy 
of  life !    Eva  Poindexter  loves 
237 


The  Circular  Study 


has  told  me  unre 
servedly  that  she 
cares  for  me.  Are 
you  satisfied  with 
me  now  ? 
In  haste, 

THOMAS. 


me.  I  forced  it  from  her 
lips  to-day.  With  my  arms 
around  her  and  her  head  on 
my  shoulder,  I  urged  her  to 
confession,  and  it  came. 
Now  let  Felix  do  what  he 
will!  What  is  old  John 
Poindexter  to  me?  Her 
father.  What  are  Amos 
Cadwalader's  hatred  and  the 
mortal  wrong  that  called  so 
loudly  for  revenge?  Dead 
issues,  long  buried  sorrows, 
which  God  may  remember, 
but  which  men  are  bound  to 
forget.  Life,  life  with  her! 
That  is  the  future  toward 
which  I  look;  that  is  the 
only  vengeance  I  will  take, 
the  only  vengeance  Evelyn 
can  demand  if  she  is  the  an 
gel  we  believe  her.  I  will 
write  to  Felix  to-morrow. 


ENTRY  XIV. 

I  have  not  written  Felix. 
I  had  not  the  courage. 


238 


Eva 

ENTRY    XV. 

I  have  had  a  dream, 
thought  I  saw  the  meeting 
of  my  father  with  the  white 
shade  of  Evelyn  in  the  un 
imaginable  recesses  of  that 
world  to  which  both  have 
gone.  Strange  horrors, 
stranger  glories  met  as 
their  separate  paths  crossed, 
and  when  the  two  forms  had 
greeted  and  parted,  a  line  of 
light  followed  the  footsteps 
of  the  one  and  a  trail  of 
gloom  those  of  the  other. 
As  their  ways  divided,  I 
heard  my  father  cry : 

"  There  is  no  spot  on  your 
garments,  Evelyn.  Can  it 
be  that  the  wrongs  of  earth 
are  forgotten  here?  That 
mortals  remember  what  the 
angels  forget,  and  that  our 
revenge  is  late  for  one  so 
blessed?" 

I  did  not  hear  the  answer, 
for  I  woke ;  but  the  echo  of 
those  words  has  rung  in  my 

239 


The  Circular  Study 

ears  all  day.  "  Is  our  re 
venge  late  for  one  so 
blessed?" 


ENTRY    XVI. 

I  have  summoned  up  cour 
age.  Felix  has  been  here 
again,  and  the  truth  has  at 
last  been  spoken  between  us. 
I  had  been  pressing  Eva  to 
name  our  wedding  day,  and 
we  were  all  standing — that 
is,  John  Poindexter,  my  dear 
girl,  and  myself — in  the  glare 
of  the  drawing-room  lights, 
when  I  heard  a  groan,  too 
faint  for  other  ears  to  catch, 
followed  by  a  light  fall  from 
the  window  overlooking  the 
garden.  It  was  Felix.  He 
had  been  watching  us,  had 
seen  my  love,  heard  me  talk 
of  marriage,  and  must  now  be 
in  the  grounds  in  open  frenzy, 
or  secret  satisfaction,  it  was 
hard  to  tell  which.  Deter 
mined  to  know,  determined 
to  speak,  I  excused  myself 

240 


Eva 

on  some  hurried  plea,  and 
searched  the  paths  he  knew 
as  well  as  I.  At  last  I  came 
upon  him.  He  was  standing 
near  an  old  dial,  where  he  had 
more  than  once  seen  Eva  and 
me  together.  He  was  very 
pale,  deathly  pale,  it  seemed 
to  me,  in  the  faint  starlight 
shining  upon  that  open 
place ;  but  he  greeted  me  as 
usual  very  quietly  and  with 
no  surprise,  almost,  in  fact, 
as  if  he  knew  I  would  recog 
nize  his  presence  and  follow 
him. 

"  You  are  playing  your  role 
well,"  said  he;  "too  well. 
What  was  that  I  heard  about 
your  marrying? " 

The  time  had  come.  I 
was  determined  to  meet  it 
with  a  man's  courage.  But 
I  found  it  hard.  Felix  is  no 
easy  man  to  cross,  even  in 
small  things,  and  this  thing 
is  his  life,  nay,  more — his 
past,  present,  and  future  ex 
istence. 

241 


The  Circular  Study 

I  do  not  know  who  spoke 
first.  There  was  some  stam 
mering,  a  few  broken  words ; 
then  I  heard  myself  saying 
distinctly,  and  with  a  certain 
hard  emphasis  born  of  the 
restraint  I  put  upon  myself : 

"I  love  her!  I  want  to 
marry  her.  You  must  allow 
this.  Then— 

I  could  not  proceed.  I  felt 
the  shock  he  had  received 
almost  as  if  it  had  been  com 
municated  to  me  by  contact. 
Something  that  was  not  of 
the  earth  seemed  to  pass  be 
tween  us,  and  I  remember 
raising  my  hand  as  if  to 
shield  my  face.  And  then, 
whether  it  was  the  blowing 
aside  of  some  branches  which 
kept  the  moonlight  from  us, 
or  because  my  eyesight  was 
made  clearer  by  my  emotion, 
I  caught  one  glimpse  of  his 
face  and  became  conscious  of 
a  great  suffering,  which  at 
first  seemed  the  wrenching 
of  my  own  heart,  but  in  an- 

242 


Eva 

other  moment  impressed  it 
self  upon  me  as  that  of  his, 
Felix's. 

I  stood  appalled. 

My  weakness  had  uprooted 
the  one  hope  of  his  life,  or  so 
I  thought;  and  that  he  ex 
pressed  this  by  silence  made 
my  heart  yearn  toward  him 
for  the  first  time  since  I  rec 
ognized  him  as  my  brother. 
I  tried  to  stammer  some  ex 
cuse.  I  was  glad  when  the 
darkness  fell  again,  for  the 
sight  of  his  bowed  head  and 
set  features  was  insupportable 
to  me.  It  seemed  to  make  it 
easier  for  me  to  talk ;  for  me 
to  dilate  upon  the  purity,  the 
goodness  which  had  robbed 
me  of  my  heart  in  spite  of 
myself.  My  heart !  It  seemed 
a  strange  word  to  pass  be 
tween  us  two  in  reference  to 
a  Poindexter,  but  it  was  the 
only  one  capable  of  express 
ing  the  feeling  I  had  for  this 
young  girl.  At  last,  driven 
to  frenzy  by  his  continued 
16  243 


The  Circular  Study 


silence,  which  had  something 
strangely  moving  in  it,  I 
cried : 

"  You  have  never  loved  a 
woman,  Felix.  You  do  not 
know  what  the  passion  is 
when  it  seizes  upon  a  man 
jaded  with  the  hoUow  pleas 
ures  of  an  irresponsible  life. 
You  cannot  judge;  therefore 
you  cannot  excuse.  You  are 
made  of  iron " 

"  Hush !  "  It  was  the  first 
word  he  had  spoken  since  I 
had  opened  my  heart  to  him. 
"  You  do  not  know  what  you 
are  saying,  Thomas.  Like 
all  egotists,  you  think  your 
self  alone  in  experience  and 
suffering.  Will  you  think 
so  when  I  tell  you  that  there 
was  a  time  in  my  life  when 
I  did  not  sleep  for  weeks; 
when  the  earth,  the  air,  yes, 
and  the  heavens  were  full  of 
nothing  but  her  name,  her 
face,  her  voice?  When  to 
have  held  her  in  my  arms,  to 
have  breathed  into  her  ear 

244 


Eva 

one  word  of  love,  to  have  felt 
her  cheek  fall  against  mine 
in  confidence,  in  passion,  in 
hope,  would  have  been  to 
me  the  heaven  which  would 
have  driven  the  devils  from 
my  soul  forever?  Thomas, 
will  you  believe  I  do  not 
know  the  uttermost  of  all 
you  are  experiencing,  when  I 
here  declare  to  you  that  there 
has  been  an  hour  in  my  life 
when,  if  I  had  felt  she  could 
have  been  brought  to  love 
me,  I  would  have  sacrificed 
Evelyn,  my  own  soul,  our 
father's  hope,  John  Poindex- 
ter's  punishment,  and  become 
the  weak  thing  you  are 
to-day,  and  gloried  in  it,  I, 
Felix  Cadwalader,  the  man 
of  iron,  who  has  never  been 
known  to  falter?  But, 
Thomas,  I  overcame  that 
feeling.  I  crushed  down  that 
love,  and  I  call  upon  you 
to  do  the  same.  You  may 
marry  her,  but 

What  stopped  him?     His 

245 


The  Circular  Study 

own  heart  or  my  own  impet 
uosity?  Both,  perhaps,  for 
at  that  moment  I  fell  at  his 
feet,  and  seizing  his  hand, 
kissed  it  as  I  might  a  wom 
an's.  He  seemed  to  grow 
cold  and  stiff  under  this  em 
brace,  which  showed  both  the 
delirium  I  was  laboring  un 
der  and  the  relief  I  had  got 
ten  from  his  words.  When 
he  withdrew  his  hand,  I  feel 
that  my  doom  was  about  to 
be  spoken,  and  I  was  not 
wrong.  It  came  in  these 
words : 

"Thomas,  I  have  yielded 
to  your  importunity  and 
granted  you  the  satisfaction 
which  under  the  same  cir 
cumstances  I  would  have  de 
nied  myself.  But  it  has  not 
made  me  less  hard  toward 
you;  indeed,,  the  steel  with 
which  you  say  my  heart  is 
bound  seems  tightening 
about  it,  as  if  the  momentary 
weakness  in  which  I  have 
indulged  called  for  revenge. 

246 


Eva 

Thomas,  go  on  your  way; 
make  the  girl  your  wife — I 
had  rather  you  would,  since 
she  is — what  she  is — but  af 
ter  she  has  taken  your  name, 
after  she  believes  herself  se 
cure  in  her  honorable  position 
and  your  love,  then  you  are 
to  remember  our  compact  and 
your  oath — back  upon  John 
Poindexter's  care  she  is  to  be 
thrown,  shortly,  curtly,  with 
out  explanation  or  excuse; 
and  if  it  costs  you  your  life, 
you  are  to  stand  firm  in  this 
attitude,  using  but  one 
weapon  in  the  struggle  which 
may  open  between  you  and 
her  father,  and  that  is,  your 
name  of  Cadwalader.  You 
will  not  need  any  other. 
Thomas,  do  you  swear  to 
this?  Or  must  I  direct  my 
own  power  against  Eva 
Poindexter,  and,  by  telling 
her  your  motive  in  courting 
her,  make  her  hate  you  for 
ever?" 

"I   will    swear,"    I   cried, 

247 


The  Circular  Study 

overpowered  by  the  alterna 
tive  with  which  he  threatened 
me.  "  Give  me  the  bliss  of 
calling  her  mine,  and  I  will 
follow  your  wishes  in  all  that 
concerns  us  thereafter." 

"You  will?"  There  was 
a  sinister  tone  in  this  ejacu 
lation  that  gave  a  shock  to 
my  momentary  complacency. 
But  we  are  so  made  that  an 
anticipated  evil  affects  us 
less  than  an  immediate  one; 
and  remembering  that  weeks 
must  yet  elapse,  during  which 
he  or  John  Poindexter  or 
even  myself  might  die,  I 
said  nothing,  and  he  went 
icily  on : 

"  I  give  you  two  months, 
alone  and  untrammelled. 
Then  you  are  to  bring  your 
bride  to  my  house,  there 
to  hear  my  final  decision. 
There  is  to  be  no  departure 
from  this  course.  I  shall 
expect  you,  Thomas;  you 
and  her.  You  can  say  that 
you  are  going  to  make  her 

248 


Eva 

acquainted  with  your 
brother." 

"  I  will  be  there,"  I  mur 
mured,  feeling  a  greater  op 
pression  than  when  I  took  the 
oath  at  my  father's  death-bed. 
"I  will  be  there." 

There  was  no  answer. 
While  I  was  repeating  those 
four  words,  Felix  vanished. 


LETTER    XL 

DEAR  FELIX: 

Have  a  fresh 
draft  made.  I 
need  cigars, 
clothes,  an d — 
a  wedding  ring. 
But  no,  let  me  stop 
short  there.  We 
will  be  married 
without  one,  unless 
you  force  it  upon 
us.  Eva's  color  is 
blue. 

Very  truly, 
THOMAS. 


ENTRY    XVII. 

To-day  I  wrote  again  to 
Felix.  He  is  at  home,  must 
be,  for  I  have  neither  seen 
nor  felt  his  presence  since 
that  fateful  night.  What 
did  I  write  ?  I  don't  remem 
ber.  I  seem  to  be  living 
in  a  dream.  Everything  is 
confused  about  me  but  Eva's 
face,  Eva's  smile.  They  are 
blissfully  clear.  Sometimes 
I  wish  they  were  not.  Were 
they  confused  amid  these 
shadows,  I  might  have 
stronger  hope  of  keeping  my 
word  to  Felix.  Now,  I  shall 

249 


The  Circular  Study 


LETTER   XII. 

DEAR  FELIX: 

Congratula- 
tions :  visits  from 
rny  neighbors;  all 
the  eclat  we  could 
wish  or  a  true 
lover  hate.  The 
ring  you  sent  fits 
as  if  made  for  her. 
I  am  called  in  all 
directions  by  a 
thousand  duties.  I 
am  on  exhibition, 
and  every  one's  cu 
riosity  must  be  sat 
isfied. 

In  haste, 

THOMAS. 

LETTER  XIII. 


DEAR  FELIX  : 
Eva       is 


never  keep  it.     Eva  once  my 
wife,  separation  between  us 
will  become  impossible. 
John  Poindexter  is  ill. 

ENTRY    XVIII. 

The  wedding  is  postponed. 
John  Poindexter  is  very  ill. 
Pray  God,  Felix  hears  noth 
ing  of  this.  He  would  come 
here;  he  would  confront  his 
enemy  on  his  bed  of  sickness. 
He  would  denounce  him,  and 
Eva  would  be  lost  to  me. 


not 


ENTRY  XIX. 

Mr.   Poindexter  is  better, 
but  our  plans  will  have  to  be 
250 


Eva 


pleased  with  the 
arrangements 
which  have  been 
made  for  our  wed 
ding.  John  Pom- 
dexter  likes  show; 
she  does  not. 
Which  will  carry 
the  day  ? 
Yours  aff., 
THOMAS. 


altered.  We  now  think  we 
will  be  married  quietly,  pos 
sibly  in  New  York. 


LETTER    XIV. 

DEAR  FELIX: 

A  compromise 
has  been  effected. 
The  wedding  will 
be  a  quiet  one,  but 
not  celebrated 
here.  As  you  can 
not  wish  to  attend 
it,  I  will  not  men 
tion  the  place  or 
hour  of  my  mar 
riage,  only  say  that 
on  September  2/th 
at  4  P.M.  you  may 
expect  my  wife 


ENTRY   XX. 

We  have  decided  to  be 
married  in  New  York.  Mr. 
Poindexter  needs  the  change, 
and  Eva  and  I  are  delighted 
at  the  prospect  of  a  private 
wedding.  Then  we  will  be 
near  Felix,  but  not  to  subject 
ourselves  to  his  will.  Oh, 
no! 


251 


The  Circular  Study 


and      myself 
your  house. 
Aff., 

THOMAS. 


at 


ENTRY  XXI. 

Married !  She  is  mine. 
And  now  to  confront  Felix 
with  my  determination  to 
hold  on  to  my  happiness. 
How  I  love  her,  and  how  I 
pity  him  !  John  Poindexter's 
wickedness  is  forgotten,  Eve 
lyn  but  a  fading  memory. 
The  whole  world  seems  to 
hold  but  three  persons — 
Eva,  Felix,  and  myself. 
How  will  it  end  ?  We  meet 
at  his  home  to-morrow. 


252 


CHAPTER   IV. 

FELIX. 

MEANWHILE  there  was  another  secret  struggle 
going  on  in  the  depth  of  a  nature  from  which  all 
sympathy  was  excluded  both  by  the  temperament 
of  the  person  concerned  and  the  circumstances 
surrounding  him. 

I  can  but  hint  at  it.  Some  tragedies  lie  beyond 
the  ken  of  man,  and  this  one  we  can  but  gather 
from  stray  scraps  of  torn-up  letters  addressed  to 
no  one  and  betraying  their  authorship  only 
through  the  writer's  hand.  They  were  found  long 
after  the  mystery  of  Felix  Cadwalader's  death  had 
been  fully  accounted  for,  tucked  away  under  the 
flooring  of  Bartow's  room.  Where  or  how  pro 
cured  by  him,  who  can  tell  ? 

"  Madness ! 

"  I  have  seen  Eva  Poindexter  again,  and  heaven 
and  hell  have  contended  for  me  ever  since.  Eva ! 
Eva !  the  girl  I  thought  of  only  as  our  prey.  The 
253 


The  Circular  Study 

girl  I  have  given  to  my  brother.  She  is  too  love 
ly  for  him  :  she  is  too  lovely  for  any  man  unless  it 
be  one  who  has  never  before  thrilled  to  any  wom 
an's  voice,  or  seen  a  face  that  could  move  his  pas 
sions  or  awaken  his  affection.  Is  it  love  I  feel  ? 
Can  I,  Felix,  who  have  had  but  one  thought,  known 
but  one  enthusiasm,  retain  in  this  breast  of  iron 
a  spot  however  secret,  however  small,  which  any 
woman,  least  of  all  his  daughter,  could  reach? 
Never !  I  am  the  prey  of  frenzy  or  the  butt  of 
devils.  Yet  only  the  inhabitants  of  a  more  celes 
tial  sphere  brighten  around  me  when  I  think  of 
those  half -raised  eyes,  those  delicately  parted  lips, 
so  devoid  of  guile,  that  innocent  bearing,  and  the 
divine  tenderness,  mingled  with  strength,  by  which 
she  commands  admiration  and  awakens  love.  I 
must  fly.  I  must  never  see  her  again.  Thomas's 
purpose  is  steady.  He  must  never  see  that  mine 
rocks  like  an  idol  smitten  by  a  thunderbolt. 

"  If  Thomas  had  not  been  reared  in  Paris,  he  too 
—  But  I  am  the  only  weak  one.  Curses  on 
my 

"Did  I  say  I  would  fly?  I  cannot,  not  yet. 
One  more  glimpse  of  her  face,  if  only  to  satisfy 
myself  that  I  have  reason  for  this  madness.  Per 
haps  I  was  but  startled  yesterday  to  find  a  celes- 
254 


Felix 

tial  loveliness  where  I  expected  to  encounter 
pallid  inanity.  If  my  emotion  is  due  to  my  own 
weakness  rather  than  to  her  superiority,  I  had  bet 
ter  recognize  my  folly  before  it  proves  my  destruc 
tion. 

I  will  stay  and 

Thomas  will  not,  shall  not 

dexter's  daughter 

hate,  hate  for  Thorn 

"  My  self-esteem  is  restored.  I  have  seen  her 
again — him — they  were  together — there  was  true 
love  in  his  eye — how  could  I  expect  him  not  to 
love  her — and  I  was  able  to  hide  my  anguish  and 
impose  his  duty  on  him.  She  loves  him — or  he 
thinks  so — and  the  work  goes  on.  But  I  will  not 
stay  to  watch  its  accomplishment.  No,  no. 

"  I  told  him  my  story  to-night,  under  the  guise 
of  a  past  experience.  Oh,  the  devils  must  laugh 
at  us  men !  They  have  reason  to.  Sometimes  I 
wonder  if  my  father  in  the  clearness  of  his  new 
vision  does  not  join  them  in  their  mirth. 

"  Home  with  my  unhappy  secret !  Home,  where 
nothing  comes  to  distract  me  from  my  gnawing 
griefs  and  almost  intolerable  thoughts.  I  walk 
the  floors.  I  cry  aloud  her  name.  I  cry  it  even 
under  the  portrait  of  Evelyn  There  are  moments 
255 


The  Circular  Study 

when  I  am  tempted  to  write  to  Thomas — to  forbid 
him 

"  Eva !  Eva !  Eva !  Every  fibre  in  my  miserable 
body  utters  the  one  word.  But  no  man  shall  ever 
know.  Thomas  shall  never  know  how  the  thought 
of  her  fills  my  days  and  nights,  making  my  life  a 
torment  and  the  future 

"  I  wait  for  his  letters  (scanty  they  are  and  cold) 
as  the  doomed  criminal  awaits  his  executioner. 
Does  she  really  love  him  ?  Or  will  that  exquisite, 
that  soulful  nature  call  for  a  stronger  mate,  a  more 
concentrated  temperament,  a — a 

"  I  thought  I  saw  in  one  of  my  dark  hours  my 
father  rising  up  from  his  grave  to  curse  me.  Oh1, 
he  might  curse  on  if 

"  What  have  I  said  about  no  man  knowing  ?  Bar- 
tow  knows.  In  his  dumbness,  his  deafness,  he 
has  surprised  my  secret,  and  shows  that  he  has 
done  so  by  his  peering  looks,  his  dissatisfied  ways, 
and  a  jealousy  at  which  I  could  shout  aloud  in 
mirth,  if  I  were  not  more  tempted  to  shriek  aloud 
in  torment.  A  dumb  serving-man,  picked  up  I 
have  almost  forgotten  where,  jealous  of  my  weak 
ness  for  John  Poindexter's  daughter!  He  was 
never  jealous  of  my  feeling  for  Evelyn.  Yet  till 

the  day  I  dared  fate  by  seeking  out  and  looking 
256 


Felix 

for  the  second  time  upon  the  woman  whose  charms 
I  had  scorned,  her  name  often  resounded  through 
these  rooms,  and  my  eyes  dwelt  upon  but  one  spot, 
and  that  was  where  her  picture  hangs  in  the  woeful 
beauty  which  has  become  my  reproach. 

"  I  have  had  a  great  surprise.  The  starling, 
which  has  been  taught  to  murmur  Evelyn's  name, 
to-day  shrieked  out,  '  Eva !  Eva ! '  My  first  im 
pulse  was  to  wring  its  neck,  my  next  to  take  it 
from  its  cage  and  hide  it  in  my  bosom.  But  I  did 
neither.  I  am  still  a  man. 

"  Bartow  will  wring  that  bird's  neck  if  I  do  not. 
This  morning  I  caught  him  with  his  hand  on  the 
cage  and  a  murderous  light  in  his  eye,  which  I 
had  no  difficulty  in  understanding.  Yet  he  cannot 
hear  the  word  the  wretched  starling  murmurs.  He 
only  knows  it  is  a  word,  a  name,  and  he  is  deter 
mined  to  suppress  it.  Shall  I  string  the  cage  up 
out  of  this  old  fellow's  reach  ?  His  deafness,  his 
inability  to  communicate  with  others,  the  exact 
ness  with  which  he  obeys  my  commands  as  given 
him  by  my  colored  slides,  his  attention  to  my  every 
wish,  consequent  upon  his  almost  animal  love  for 
my  person,  are  necessary  to  me  now,  while  the 
bird—  Ah  !  there  it  goes  again,  '  Eva !  Eva ! ' 

"  Is  it  hate  or  love  I  feel,  abhorrence  or  passion  ? 
257 


The  Circular  Study 

Love  would  seek  to  save,  but  I  have  no  thought  of 
saving  her,  since  she  has  acknowledged  her  love 
for  Thomas,  and  since  he —  Oh,  it  is  not  now 
for  Evelyn's  sake  I  plan  revenge,  but  for  my  own ! 
These  nights  and  days  of  torture — the  revelation 
I  have  had  of  my  own  nature — the  consent  I  was 
forced  to  give  to  a  marriage  which  means  bliss  to 
them  and  anguish  beyond  measure  to  me — all  this 
calls  for  vengeance,  and  they  will  not  escape, 
these  two.  I  have  laid  my  plans  deep.  I  have 
provided  for  every  contingency.  It  has  taken 
time,  thought,  money.  But  the  result  is  good.  If 
they  cross  the  threshold  of  my  circular  study,  they 
must  consent  to  my  will  or  perish  here,  and  I  with 
them.  Oh,  they  shall  never  live  and  be  happy! 
Thomas  need  not  think  it.  John  Poindexter  need 
not  think  it!  I  might  have  forgotten  the  oath 
made  on  my  father's  crossed  arms,  but  I  will  never 
forget  the  immeasurable  griefs  of  these  past 
months  or  the  humiliation  they  have  brought  me. 
My  own  weakness  is  to  be  avenged — my  unheard- 
of,  my  intolerable  weakness.  Remember  Evelyn  ? 
Remember  Felix !  Ah,  again  !  Eva !  Eva !  Eva !" 


CHAPTER    V. 

WHY   THE    IRON    SLIDE    REMAINED    STATIONARY. 

THE  rest  must  be  told  in  Thomas's  own  words, 
as  it  forms  the  chief  part  of  the  confession  he 
made  before  the  detectives : 

According  to  my  promise,  I  took  my  young  wife 
to  Felix's  house  on  the  day  and  at  the  hour  pro 
posed.  We  went  on  foot,  for  it  was  not  far  from 
the  hotel  where  we  were  then  staying,  and  were 
received  at  the  door  by  an  old  servant  who  I  had 
been  warned  could  neither  speak  nor  hear.  At 
sight  of  him  and  the  dim,  old-fashioned  hall 
stretching  out  in  aristocratic  gloom  before  us,  Eva 
turned  pale  and  cast  me  an  inquiring  look.  But  I 
reassured  her  with  a  smile  that  most  certainly  con 
tradicted  my  own  secret  dread  of  the  interview 
before  us,  and  taking  her  on  my  arm,  followed  the 
old  man  down  the  hall,  past  the  open  drawing-room 
door  (where  I  certainly  thought  we  should  pause), 
into  a  room  whose  plain  appearance  made  me 

frown,  till  Bartow,  as  I   have   since   heard  him 
17  259 


The  Circular  Study 

called,  threw  aside  the  portiere  at  one  end  and  in 
troduced  us  into  my  brother's  study,  which  at  that 
moment  looked  like  fairyland,  or  would  have,  if 
Felix,  who  was  its  sole  occupant,  had  not  imme 
diately  drawn  our  attention  to  himself  by  the  re 
markable  force  of  his  personality,  never  so  im 
pressive  as  at  that  moment. 

Eva,  to  whom  I  had  said  little  of  this  brother, 
certainly  nothing  which  would  lead  her  to  antici 
pate  seeing  either  so  handsome  a  man  or  one  of 
such  mental  poise  and  imposing  character,  looked 
frightened  and  a  trifle  awe- struck.  But  she  ad 
vanced  quite  bravely  toward  him,  and  at  my  intro 
duction  smiled  with  such  an  inviting  grace  that  I 
secretly  expected  to  see  him  more  or  less  disarmed 
by  it. 

And  perhaps  he  was,  for  his  already  pale  fea 
tures  turned  waxy  in  the  yellow  glare  cast  by  the 
odd  lantern  over  our  heads,  and  the  hand  he  had 
raised  in  mechanical  greeting  fell  heavily,  and  he 
could  barely  stammer  out  some  words  of  welcome. 
These  would  have  seemed  quite  inadequate  to  the 
occasion  if  his  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  her  face, 
had  not  betrayed  the  fact  that  he  was  not  without 
feeling,  though  she  little  realized  the  nature  of 

that  feeling  or  how  her  very  life  (for  happiness  is 
260 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

life)  was  trembling  in  the  balance  under  that  in 
domitable  will. 

I  who  did  know — or  thought  I  did — cast  him  an 
imploring  glance,  and,  saying  that  I  had  some  ex 
planations  to  make,  asked  if  Mrs.  Adams  might 
not  rest  here  while  we  had  a  few  words  apart. 

He  answered  me  with  a  strange  look.  Did  he 
feel  the  revolt  in  my  tone  and  understand  then  as 
well  as  afterward  what  the  nature  of  my  compli 
ance  had  been?  I  shall  never  know.  I  only 
know  that  he  stopped  fumbling  with  some  small 
object  on  the  table  before  him,  and,  bowing  with  a 
sarcastic  grace  that  made  me  for  the  first  time  in 
my  intercourse  with  him  feel  myself  his  inferior, 
even  in  size,  led  the  way  to  a  small  door  I  had 
failed  to  notice  up  to  this  moment. 

"  Your  wife  will  find  it  more  comfortable  here," 
he  observed,  with  slow  pauses  in  his  speech  that 
showed  great,  but  repressed,  excitement.  And  he 
opened  the  door  into  what  had  the  appearance  of  a 
small  but  elegant  sleeping-apartment.  "  What  we 
have  to  say  cannot  take  long.  Mrs.  Adams  will 
not  find  the  wait  tedious." 

"  No,"  she  smiled,  with  a  natural  laugh,  born, 
as  I  dare  hope,  of  her  perfect  happiness.  Yet  she 

could   not   but   have   considered   the    proceeding 
261 


The  Circular  Study 

strange,  and  my  manner,  as  well  as  his,  scarcely 
what  might  be  expected  from  a  bridegroom  intro 
ducing  his  bride  to  his  only  relative. 

"  I  will  call  you — "  I  began,  but  the  vision  of 
her  dimpled  face  above  the  great  cluster  of  roses 
she  carried  made  me  forget  to  complete  my  sen 
tence,  and  the  door  closed,  and  I  found  myself  face 
to  face  with  Felix. 

He  was  breathing  easier,  and  his  manner  seemed 
more  natural  now  that  we  were  alone,  yet  he  did 
not  speak,  but  cast  a  strange,  if  not  inquiring, 
glance  about  the  room  (the  weirdest  of  apartments, 
as  you  all  well  know),  and  seeming  satisfied  with 
what  he  saw,  why  I  could  not  tell,  led  the  way  up 
to  the  large  table  which  from  the  first  had  appeared 
to  exert  a  sort  of  uncanny  magnetism  upon  him, 
saying : 

"  Come  further  away.  I  need  air,  breathing 
place  in  this  close  room,  and  so  must  you.  Be 
sides,  why  should  she  hear  what  we  have  to  say  ? 
She  will  know  the  worst  soon  enough.  She  seems 
a  gentle-hearted  woman. " 

"  An  angel !  "  I  began,  but  he  stopped  me  with 
an  imperious  gesture. 

"  We  will  not  discuss  your  wi — Mrs.  Adams," 

he  protested.     "  Where  is  John  Poindexter  ?  " 

262 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

"At  the  hotel,"  I  rejoined.  "  Or  possibly  he 
has  returned  home.  I  no  longer  take  account  of 
his  existence.  Felix,  I  shall  never  leave  my  wife. 
I  had  rathei  prove  recreant  to  the  oath  I  took  be 
fore  I  realized  the  worth  of  the  woman  whose  hap 
piness  I  vowed  to  destroy.  This  is  what  I  have 
come  to  tell  you.  Make  it  easy  for  me,  Felix. 
You  are  a  man  who  has  loved  and  suffered.  Let 
us  bury  the  past ;  let  us " 

Had  I  hoped  I  could  move  him  ?  Perhaps  some 
such  child's  notion  had  influenced  me  up  to  this  mo 
ment.  But  as  these  words  left  my  lips,  nay,  be 
fore  I  had  stumbled  through  them,  I  perceived  by 
the  set  look  of  his  features,  which  were  as  if  cast 
in  bronze,  that  I  might  falter,  but  that  he  was 
firm  as  ever,  firmer,  it  seemed  to  me,  and  less  easy 
to  be  entreated. 

Yet  what  of  that  ?  At  the  worst,  what  had  I 
to  fear?  A  struggle  which  might  involve  Eva  in 
bitter  unpleasantness  and  me  in  the  loss  of  a  for 
tune  I  had  come  to  regard  almost  as  my  own. 
But  these  were  petty  considerations.  Eva  must 
know  sooner  or  later  my  real  name  and  the  story 
of  her  father's  guilt.  Why  not  now?  And  if  we 
must  start  life  poor,  it  was  yet  life,  while  a  sepa 
ration  from  her 

263 


The  Circular  Study 

Meanwhile  Felix  had  spoken,  and  in  language  I 
was  least  prepared  to  hear. 

"  I  anticipated  this.  From  the  moment  you 
pleaded  with  me  for  the  privilege  of  marrying  her, 
I  have  looked  forward  to  this  outcome  and  provided 
against  it.  Weakness  on  the  part  of  her  bride 
groom  was  to  be  expected;  I  have,  therefore, 
steeled  myself  to  meet  the  emergency;  for  your 
oath  must  be  kept !  " 

Crushed  by  the  tone  in  which  these  words  were 
uttered,  a  tone  that  evinced  power  against  which 
any  ordinary  struggle  would  end  in  failure,  I  cast 
my  eyes  about  the  room  in  imitation  of  what  I  had 
seen  him  do  a  few  minutes  before.  There  was 
nothing  within  sight  calculated  to  awaken  distrust, 
and  yet  a  feeling  of  distrust  (the  first  I  had  really 
felt)  had  come  with  the  look  he  had  thrown  above 
and  around  the  mosque-like  interior  of  the  room  he 
called  his  study.  Was  it  the  calm  confidence  he 
showed,  or  the  weirdness  of  finding  myself  amid 
Oriental  splendors  and  under  the  influence  of  night 
effects  in  high  day  and  within  sound  of  the  clang 
ing  street  cars  and  all  the  accompanying  bustle  of 
every-day  traffic  ?  It  is  hard  to  say ;  but  from  this 
moment  on  I  found  myself  affected  by  a  vague 

affright,    not    on    my  own    account,  but   on  hers 
264 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

whose  voice  we  could  plainly  hear  humming  a  gay 
tune  in  the  adjoining  apartment.  But  I  was  re 
solved  to  suppress  all  betrayal  of  uneasiness.  I 
even  smiled,  though  I  felt  the  eyes  of  Evelyn's 
pictured  countenance  upon  me;  Evelyn's,  whose 
portrait  I  had  never  lost  sight  of  from  the  moment 
of  entering  the  room,  though  I  had  not  given  it  a 
direct  look  and  now  stood  with  my  back  to  it. 
Felix,  who  faced  it,  but  who  did  not  raise  his  eyes 
to  it,  waited  a  moment  for  my  response,  and  find 
ing  that  my  words  halted,  said  again : 

"  That  oath  must  be  kept !  " 

This  time  I  found  words  with  which  to  answer. 
"Impossible!"  I  burst  out,  flinging  doubt,  fear, 
hesitancy,  everything  I  had  hitherto  trembled  at 
to  the  winds.  "  It  was  in  my  nature  to  take  it, 
worked  upon  as  I  was  by  family  affection,  the 
awfulness  of  our  father's  approaching  death,  and  a 
thousand  uncanny  influences  all  carefully  measured 
and  prepared  for  this  end.  But  it  is  not  in  my 
nature  to  keep  it  after  four  months  of  natural  liv 
ing  in  the  companionship  of  a  man  thirty  years 
removed  from  his  guilt,  and  of  his  guileless  and 
wholly  innocent  daughter.  And  you  cannot  drive 
me  to  it,  Felix.  No  man  can  force  another  to 

abandon  his  own  wife  because  of  a  wicked  oath 
265 


The  Circular  Study 

taken  long  before  he  knew  her.  If  you  think  your 
money " 

"Money?  "  he  cried,  with  a  contempt  that  did 
justice  to  my  disinterestedness  as  well  as  his 
own.  "  I  had  forgotten  I  had  it.  No,  Thomas,  I 
should  never  weigh  money  against  the  happiness 
of  living  with  such  a  woman  as  your  wife  appears 
to  be.  But  her  life  I  might.  Carry  out  your 
threat ;  forget  to  -pay  John  Poindexter  the  debt  we 
owe  him,  and  the  matter  will  assume  a  seriousness 
for  which  you  are  doubtless  poorly  prepared.  A 
daughter  dead  in  her  honeymoon  will  be  almost 
as  great  a  grief  to  him  as  a  dishonored  one.  And 
either  dead  or  dishonored  he  must  find  her,  when 
he  comes  here  in  search  of  the  child  he  cannot 
long  forget.  Which  shall  it  be  ?  Speak !  " 

Was  I  dreaming?  Was  this  Felix?  Was  this 
myself  ?  And  was  it  in  my  ears  these  words  were 
poured  ? 

With  a  spring  I  reached  his  side  where  he  stood 
close  against  the  table,  and  groaned  rather  than 
shrieked  the  words  : 

"  You  would  not  kill  her !  You  do  not  meditate 
a  crime  of  blood — here — on  her — the  innocent — 
the  good " 

"No,"  he  said;  "it  will  be   you  who  will  do 
266 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

that.  You  who  will  not  wish  to  see  her  languish 
— suffer — go  mad —  Thomas,  I  am  not  the  rav 
ing  being  you  take  me  for.  I  am  merely  a  keeper 
of  oaths.  Nay,  I  am  more.  I  have  talents,  skill. 
The  house  in  which  you  find  yourself  is  proof  of 
this.  This  room — see,  it  has  no  outlet  save  those 
windows,  scarcely  if  at  all  perceptible  to  you,  above 
our  heads,  and  that  opening  shielded  now  by  a 
simple  curtain,  but  which  in  an  instant,  without 
my  moving  from  this  place,  I  can  so  hermetically 
seal  that  no  man,  save  he  be  armed  with  crowbar 
and  pickaxe,  could  enter  here,  even  if  man  could 
know  of  our  imprisonment  in  a  house  soon  to  be 
closed  from  top  to  bottom  by  my  departing  ser 
vant.  " 

'  "  May  God  protect  us ! "  fell  from  my  lips,  as, 
stiff  with  horror,  I  let  my  eyes  travel  from  his 
determined  face,  first  to  the  windows  high  over  my 
head  and  then  to  the  opening  of  the  door,  which, 
though  but  a  few  steps  from  where  I  stood,  was  as 
far  as  possible  from  the  room  into  which  my  dar 
ling  had  been  induced  to  enter. 

Felix,  watching  me,  uttered  his  explanations  as 
calmly  as  if  the  matter  were  one  of  every-day  sig 
nificance.     "You  are  looking  for  the  windows," 
he   remarked.     "They   are   behind   those   goblin 
267 


The   Circular  Study 

faces  you  see  outlined  on  the  tapestries  under  the 
celling.  As  for  the  door,  if  you  had  looked  to  the 
left  when  you  entered,  you  would  have  detected 
the  edge  of  a  huge  steel  plate  hanging  flush  with  the 
casing.  This  relate  can  be  made  to  slide  across 
that  opening  in  an  instant  just  by  the  touch  of  my 
hand  on  this  button.  This  done,  no  power  save 
such  as  I  have  mentioned  can  move  it  back  again, 
not  even  my  own.  I  have  forces  at  my  command 
for  sending  it  forward,  but  none  for  returning  it 
to  its  place.  Do  you  doubt  my  mechanical  skill 
or  the  perfection  of  the  electrical  apparatus  I 
have  caused  to  be  placed  here?  You  need  not, 
Thomas;  nor  need  you  doubt  the  will  that  has 
only  to  exert  itself  for  an  instant  to —  Shall  I 
press  the  button,  brother?  " 

"  No,  no !  "  I  shouted  in  a  frenzy,  caused  rather 
by  my  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  this  man  than 
any  especial  threat  apparent  in  his  voice  or  ges 
ture.  "  Let  me  think ;  let  me  know  more  fully 
what  your  requirements  are — what  she  must  suffer 
if  I  consent — and  what  I." 

He  let  his  hand  slip  back,  that  smooth  white 
hand  which  I  had  more  than  once  surveyed  in  ad 
miration.  Then  he  smiled. 

"  I  knew  you  would  not  be  foolish,"  he  said. 
268 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

"  Life  has  its  charms  even  for  hermits  like  me ; 
and  for  a  beau  garqon  such  as  you  are— 

"  Hush  !  "  I  interposed,  maddened  into  daring 
his  full  anger.  "  It  is  not  my  life  I  am  buying, 
but  hers,  possibly  yours;  for  it  seems  you  have 
planned  to  perish  with  us.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly, "  was  his  cold  reply.  "  Am  I  an 
assassin  ?  Would  you  expect  me  to  live,  knowing 
you  to  be  perishing?  " 

I  stared  aghast.  Such  resolve,  such  sacrifice  of 
self  to  an  idea  was  beyond  my  comprehension. 

"Why — what?"  I  stammered.  "Why  kill  us, 
why  kill  yourself " 

The  answer  overwhelmed  me. 

"  Remember  Evelyn ! "  shrilled  a  voice,  and  I 
paused,  struck  dumb  with  a  superstitious  horror  I 
had  never  believed  myself  capable  of  experienc 
ing.  For  it  was  not  Felix  who  spoke,  neither  was 
it  any  utterance  of  my  own  aroused  conscience. 
Muffled,  strange,  and  startling  it  came  from  above, 
from  the  hollow  spaces  of  that  high  vault  lit  with 
the  golden  glow  that  henceforth  can  have  but  one 
meaning  for  me — death. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked.  "Another  of  your 
mechanical  contrivances  ?  " 

He  smiled ;  I  had  rather  he  had  frowned. 
269 


The  Circular  Study 

"  Not  exactly.  A  favorite  bird,  a  starling. 
Alas !  he  but  repeats  what  he  has  heard  echoed 
through  the  solitude  of  these  rooms.  I  thought  I 
had  smothered  him  up  sufficiently  to  insure  his 
silence  during  this  interview.  But  he  is  a  self- 
willed  bird,  and  seems  disposed  to  defy  the  wrap 
pings  I  have  bound  around  him ;  which  fact  warns 
me  to  be  speedy  and  hasten  our  explanations. 
Thomas,  this  is  what  I  require :  John  Poindexter 
— you  do  not  know  where  he  is  at  this  hour,  but  I 
do — received  a  telegram  but  now,  which,  if  he  is  a 
man  at  all,  will  bring  him  to  this  house  in  a  half- 
hour  or  so  from  the  present  moment.  It  was  sent 
in  your  name,  and  in  it  you  informed  him  that 
matters  had  arisen  which  demanded  his  immediate 
attention;  that  you  were  on  your  way  to  your 
brother's  (giving  him  this  address),  where,  if  you 
found  entrance,  you  would  await  his  presence  in  a 
room  called  the  study ;  but  that — and  here  you  will 
see  how  his  coming  will  not  aid  us  if  that  steel 
plate  is  once  started  on  its  course — if  the  possible 
should  occur  and  your  brother  should  be  absent 
from  home,  then  he  was  to  await  a  message  from 
you  at  the  Plaza.  The  appearance  of  the  house 
would  inform  him  whether  he  would  find  you  and 

Eva  within ;  or  so  I  telegraphed  him  in  your  name. 

270 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

"  Thomas,  if  Bartow  fulfils  my  instructions — and 
I  have  never  know  him  to  fail  me — he  will  pass 
down  these  stairs  and  out  of  this  house  in  just  five 
minutes.  As  he  is  bound  on  a  long- promised 
journey,  and  as  he  expects  me  to  leave  the  house 
immediately  after  him,  he  has  drawn  every  shade 
and  fastened  every  lock.  Consequently,  on  his 
exit,  the  house  will  become  a  tomb,  to  which,  just 
two  weeks  from  to-day,  John  Poindexter  will  be 
called  again,  and  in  words  which  will  lead  to  a 
demolition  which  will  disclose — what?  Let  us 
not  forestall  the  future,  our  horrible  future,  by 
inquiring.  But  Thomas,  shall  Bartow  go  ?  Shall 
I  not  by  signs  he  comprehends  more  readily  than 
other  men  comprehend  speech  indicate  to  him  on 
his  downward  passage  to  the  street  that  I  wish  him 
to  wait  and  open  the  door  to  the  man  whom  we 
have  promised  to  overwhelm  in  his  hour  of  satis 
faction  and  pride  ?  You  have  only  to  write  a  line — 
see !  I  have  made  a  copy  of  the  words  you  must 
use,  lest  your  self-command  should  be  too  severely 
taxed.  These  words  left  on  this  table  for  his  in 
spection — for  you  must  go  and  Eva  remain — will 
tell  him  all  he  needs  to  know  from  you.  The  rest 
can  come  from  my  lips  after  he  has  read  the  signa 
ture,  which  in  itself  will  confound  him  and  pre- 
271 


The  Circular  Study 

pare  the  way  for  what  I  have  to  add.  Have  you 
anything  to  say  against  this  plan?  Anything,  I 
mean,  beyond  what  you  have  hitherto  urged  ?  Any 
thing  that  I  will  consider  or  which  will  prevent 
my  finger  from  pressing  the  button  on  which  it 
rests?" 

I  took  up  the  paper.  It  was  lying  on  the  table, 
where  it  had  evidently  been  inscribed  simulta 
neously  with  or  just  before  our  entrance  into  the 
house,  and  slowly  read  the  few  lines  I  saw  written 
upon  it.  You  know  them,  but  they  will  acquire  a 
new  significance  from  your  present  understanding 
of  their  purpose  and  intent : 

I  return  you  back  your  daughter.  Neither  she 
nor  you  will  ever  see  me  again.  Remember 
Evelyn !  AMOS'S  SON. 

"  You  wish  me  to  sign  these  words,  to  put  them 
into  my  own  handwriting,  and  so  to  make  them 
mine?  Mine!"  I  repeated. 

"  Yes,  and  to  leave  them  here  on  this  table  for 
him  to  see  when  he  enters.  He  might  not  believe 
any  mere  statement  from  me  in  regard  to  your  in 
tentions." 

I   was  filled  with   horror.     Love,    life,    human 

hopes,  the  world's  friendships — all  the  possibilities 
272 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

of  existence,  swept  in  one  concentrated  flood  of 
thought  and  feeling  through  my  outraged  con 
sciousness,  and  I  knew  I  could  never  put  my  name 
to  such  a  blasphemy  of  all  that  was  sacred  to  man's 
soul.  Tossing  the  paper  in  his  face,  I  cried : 

"You  have  gone  too  far!  Better  her  death, 
better  mine,  better  the  destruction  of  us  all,  than 
such  dishonor  to  the  purest  thing  heaven  ever 
made.  I  refuse,  Felix — I  refuse.  And  may  God 
have  mercy  on  us  all !  " 

The  moment  was  ghastly.  I  saw  his  face 
change,  his  finger  tremble  where  it  hovered  above 
the  fatal  button;  saw — though  only  in  imagina 
tion  as  yet — the  steely  edge  of  that  deadly  plate 
of  steel  advancing  beyond  the  lintel,  and  was 
about  to  dare  all  in  a  sudden  grapple  with  this 
man,  when  a  sound  from  another  direction  caught 
my  ear,  and  looking  around  in  terror  of  the  only 
intrusion  we  could  fear,  beheld  Eva  advancing 
from  the  room  in  which  we  had  placed  her. 

That  moment  a  blood-red  glow  took  the  place 
of  the  sickly  yellow  which  had  hitherto  filled 
every  recess  of  this  weird  apartment.  But  I 
scarcely  noticed  the  change,  save  as  it  affected  her 
pallor  and  gave  to  her  cheeks  the  color  that  was 
lacking  in  the  roses  at  her  belt. 
273 


The   Circular  Study 


Fearless  and  sweet  as  in  the  hour  when  she  first 
told  me  that  she  loved  me,  she  approached  and 
stood  before  us. 

"What  is  this?"  she  cried.  "I  have  heard 
words  that  sound  more  like  the  utterances  of  some 
horrid  dream  than  the  talk  of  men  and  brothers. 
What  does  it  mean,  Thomas  ?  What  does  it  mean^ 
Mr.  -  -" 

"  Cadwalader,"  announced  Felix,  dropping  his 
eyes  from  her  face,  but  changing  not  a  whit  his 
features  or  posture. 

"Cadwalader?"  The  name  was  not  to  her  what 
it  was  to  her  father.  "  Cadwalader  ?  I  have 
heard  that  name  in  my  father's  house;  it  was 
Evelyn's  name,  the  Evelyn  who " 

"  Whom  you  see  painted  there  over  your  head, " 
finished  Felix,  "  my  sister,  Thomas's  sister — the 
girl  whom  your  father — but  I  spare  you,  child 
though  you  be  of  a  man  who  spared  nothing. 
From  your  husband  you  may  learn  why  a  Cadwala 
der  can  never  find  his  happiness  with  a  Poindexter. 
Why  thirty  or  more  years  after  that  young  girl's 
death,  you  who  were  not  then  born  are  given  at 
this  hour  the  choice  between  death  and  dishonor. 
I  allow  you  just  five  minutes  in  which  to  listen. 

After  that  you  will  let  me  know  your  joint  de- 
274 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

cision.  Only  you  must  make  your  talk  where  you 
stand.  A  step  taken  by  either  of  you  to  right  or 
left,  and  Thomas  knows  what  will  follow." 

Five  minutes,  with  such  a  justification  to  make, 
and  such  a  decision  to  arrive  at !  I  felt  my  head 
swim,  my  tongue  refuse  its  office,  and  stood  dumb 
and  helpless  before  her  till  the  sight  of  her  dear 
eyes  raised  in  speechless  trust  to  mine  flooded  me 
with  a  sense  of  triumph  amid  all  the  ghastly  ter 
rors  of  the  moment,  and  I  broke  out  in  a  tumult  of 
speech,  in  excuses,  explanations,  all  that  comes  to 
one  in  a  more  than  mortal  crisis. 

She  listened,  catching  my  meaning  rather  from 
my  looks  than  my  words.  Then  as  the  minutes  fled 
and  my  brother  raised  a  warning  hand,  she  turned 
toward  him,  and  said : 

"You  are  in  earnest?  We  must  separate  in 
shame  or  perish  in  this  prison-house  with  you  ?  " 

His  answer  was  mere  repetition,  mechanical, 
but  firm : 

"  You  have  said  it.  You  have  but  one  minute 
more,  madam." 

She  shrank,  and  all  her  powers  seemed  leaving 
her,  then  a  reaction  came,  and  a  flaming  angel 
stood  where  but  a  moment  before  the  most  deli 
cate  of  women  weakly  faltered ;  and  giving  me  a 

18  275 


The  Circular  Study 

look  to  see  if  I  had  the  courage  or  the  will  to  lift 
my  hand  against  my  own  flesh  and  blood  (alas  for 
us  both !  I  did  not  understand  her)  caught  up  an 
old  Turkish  dagger  lying  only  too  ready  to  her 
hand,  and  plunged  it  with  one  sideways  thrust  into 
his  side,  crying: 

"We  cannot  part,  we  cannot  die,  we  are  too 
young,  too  happy !  " 

It  was  sudden ;  the  birth  of  purpose  in  her  so 
unexpected  and  so  rapid  that  Felix,  the  ready,  who 
was  prepared  for  all  contingencies,  for  the  least 
movement  or  suggestion  of  escape,  faltered  and 
pressed,  not  the  fatal  button,  but  his  heart. 

One  impulsive  act  on  the  part  of  a  woman  had 
overthrown  all  the  fine-spun  plans  of  the  subtlest 
spirit  that  ever  attempted  to  work  its  will  in  the 
face  of  God  and  man. 

But  I  did  not  think  of  this  then ;  I  did  not  even 
bestow  a  thought  upon  the  narrowness  of  our  es 
cape,  or  the  price  which  the  darling  of  my  heart 
might  be  called  upon  to  pay  for  this  supreme  act 
of  self-defence.  My  mind,  my  heart,  my  interest 
were  with  Felix,  in  whom  the  nearness  of  death 
had  called  up  all  that  was  strongest  and  most  com 
manding  in  his  strong  and  commanding  spirit. 

Though  struck  to  the  heart,  he  had  not  fallen. 
276 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

It  was  as  if  the  will  which  had  sustained  him 
through  thirty  years  of  mental  torture  held  him 
erect  still,  that  he  might  give  her,  Eva,  one  look, 
the  like  of  which  I  had  never  seen  on  mortal  face, 
and  which  will  never  leave  my  heart  or  hers  until 
we  die.  Then  as  he  saw  her  sink  shudderingly 
down  and  the  delicate  woman  reappear  in  her 
pallid  and  shrunken  figure,  he  turned  his  eyes  on 
me  and  I  saw — good  God ! — a  tear  well  up  from 
those  orbs  of  stone  and  fall  slowly  down  his  cheek, 
fast  growing  hollow  under  the  stroke  of  death. 

"Eva!  Eva!  I  love  Eva!"  shrilled  the  voice 
which  once  before  had  startled  me  from  the  hol 
low  vault  above. 

Felix  heard,  and  a  smile  faint  as  the  failing  rush 
of  blood  through  his  veins  moved  his  lips  and 
brought  a  revelation  to  my  soul.  He,  too,  loved 
Eva! 

When  he  saw  I  knew,  the  will  which  had  kept 
him  on  his  feet  gave  way,  and  he  sank  to  the  floor 
murmuring : 

"  Take  her  away !  I  forgive.  Save !  Save ! 
She  did  not  know  I  loved  her." 

Eva,  aghast,  staring  with  set  eyes  at  her  work, 
had  not  moved  from  her  crouching  posture.  But 

when  she  saw  that  speaking  head  fall  back,  the  fine 

277 


The  Circular  Study 

limbs  settle  into  the  repose  of  death,  a  shock  went 
through  her  which  I  thought  would  never  leave 
her  reason  unimpaired. 

"  I've  killed  him  !  "  she  murmured.  "  I've  killed 
him!"  and  looking  wildly  about,  her  eyes  fell  on 
the  cross  that  hung  behind  us  on  the  wall. 
It  seemed  to  remind  her  that  Felix  was  a  Catholic. 
"  Bring  it !  "  she  gasped.  "  Let  him  feel  it  on  his 
breast.  It  may  bring  him  peace — hope." 

As  I  rushed  to  do  her  bidding,  she  fell  in  a  heap 
on  the  floor. 

"  Save !  "  came  again  from  the  lips  we  thought 
closed  forever  in  death.  And  realizing  at  the 
words  both  her  danger  and  the  necessity  of  her 
not  opening  her  eyes  again  upon  this  scene,  I  laid 
the  cross  in  his  arms,  and  catching  her  up  from 
the  floor,  ran  with  her  out  of  the  house.  But  no 
sooner  had  I  caught  sight  of  the  busy  street  and 
the  stream  of  humanity  passing  before  us,  than  I 
awoke  to  an  instant  recognition  of  our  peril.  Set 
ting  my  wife  down,  I  commanded  life  back  into 
her  limbs  by  the  force  of  my  own  energy,  and  then 
dragging  her  down  the  steps,  mingled  with  the 
crowd,  encouraging  her,  breathing  for  her,  living 
in  her  till  I  got  her  into  a  carriage  and  we  drove 
away. 


Why  the  Iron  Slide  Remained  Stationary 

For  the  silence  we  have  maintained  from  that 
time  to  this  you  must  not  blame  Mrs.  Adams. 
When  she  came  to  herself — which  was  not  for 
days — she  manifested  the  greatest  desire  to  pro 
claim  her  act  and  assume  its  responsibility.  But 
I  would  not  have  it.  I  loved  her  too  dearly  to  see 
her  name  bandied  about  in  the  papers ;  and  when 
her  father  was  taken  into  our  confidence,  he  was 
equally  peremptory  in  enjoining  silence,  and 
shared  with  me  the  watch  I  now  felt  bound  to 
keep  over  her  movements. 

But  alas !  His  was  the  peremptoriness  of  pride 
rather  than  love.  John  Poindexter  has  no  more 
heart  for  his  daughter  than  he  had  for  his  wife  or 
that  long-forgotten  child  from  whose  grave  this 
tragedy  has  sprung.  Had  Felix  triumphed  he 
would  never  have  wrung  the  heart  of  this  man. 
As  he  once  said,  when  a  man  cares  for  nothing 
and  nobody,  not  even  for  himself,  it  is  useless  to 
curse  him. 

As  for  Felix  himself,  judge  him  not,  when  you 
realize,  as  you  now  must,  that  his  last  conscious 
act  was  to  reach  for  and  put  in  his  mouth  the 
paper  which  connected  Eva  with  his  death.  At 
the  moment  of  death  his  thought  was  to  save,  not  to 

avenge.     And  this  after  her  hand  had  struck  him. 
279 


CHAPTER   VI. 

ANSWERED. 

A  SILENCE  more  or  less  surcharged  with  emo 
tion  followed  this  final  appeal.  Then,  while  the 
various  auditors  of  this  remarkable  history  whis 
pered  together  and  Thomas  Adams  turned  in  love 
and  anxiety  toward  his  wife,  the  inspector  handed 
back  to  Mr.  Gryce  the  memorandum  he  had  re 
ceived  from  him. 

It  presented  the  following  appearance  : 

1.  Why  a  woman  who  was  calm  enough  to  stop 
and  arrange  her  hair  during  the  beginning  of  an 
interview  should  be  wrought  up  to  such  a  pitch  of 
frenzy  and  exasperation  before  it  was  over  as  to 
kill  with  her  own  hand  a  man  she  had  evidently 
had  no  previous  grudge  against.      (Remember  the 
comb  found  on  the  floor  of  Mr.  Adams's  bedroom.) 

2.  What   was   the    meaning  of   the    following 
words,  written  just  previous  to  this  interview  by 
the  man  thus  killed  :  "  I  return  you  your  daughter. 
Neither  you  nor  she  will  ever  see  me  again.     Re 
member  Evelyn !" 

280 


Answered 

3.  Why  was  the  pronoun  "I"  used  in  this  com 
munication  ?  What  position  did  Mr.  Felix  Adams 
hold  toward  this  young  girl  qualifying  him  to  make 
use  of  such  language  after  her  marriage  to  his 
brother  ? 

4.  And  having  used  it,  why  did  he,  upon  being 
attacked   by  her,  attempt  to  swallow   the  paper 
upon  which  he  had  written  these  words,  actually 
dying  with  it  clinched  between  his  teeth  ? 

5.  If  he  was  killed  in  anger  and  died  as  mon 
sters  do  (her  own  word),  why  did  his  face  show 
sorrow  rather  than  hate,  and  a  determination  as 
far  as  possible  removed  from  the  rush  of  over 
whelming  emotions  likely  to  follow  the  reception 
of  a  mortal  blow  from  the  hand  of  an  unexpected 
antagonist  ? 

6.  Why,  if  he  had  strength  to  seize  the  above- 
mentioned  paper  and  convey  it  to  his  lips,  did  he 
not  use  that  strength  in  turning  on  a  light  calcu 
lated  to  bring  him  assistance,  instead  of  leaving 
blazing  the  crimson  glow  which,  according  to  the 
code    of     signals     as     now    understood    by    us, 
means:    "  Nothing  more  required  just  now.     Keep 
away?  " 

7.  What  was  the  meaning  of  the  huge  steel 

plate  found  between  the  casings  of  the  doorway, 
281 


The   Circular  Study 

and  why  did  it   remain  at  rest  within  its  socket 
at  this,  the  culminating,  moment  of  his  life? 

8.  An  explanation  of  how  old  Poindexter  came 
to  appear  on  the  scene  so  soon  after  the  event. 
His  words  as  overheard  were :  "  It  is  Amos'  son, 
not  Amos!"     Did  he  not  know  whom  he  was  to 
meet  in  this  house  ?     Was  the  condition  of  the  man 
lying  before  him  with  a  cross  on  his  bosom  and  a 
dagger  in  his  heart  less  of  a  surprise  to  him  than  the 
personality  of  the  victim  ? 

9.  Remember  the  conclusions  we  have  drawn 
from  Bartow's  pantomime.     Mr.  Adams  was  killed 
by  a  left-handed  thrust.     Watch  for  an  acknowl 
edgment  that  the  young  woman  is  left-handed,  and 
do  not  forget  that  an  explanation  is  due  why  for 
so  long  a  time  she  held  her  other  arm  stretched  out 
behind  her. 

10.  Why  did  the  bird  whose  chief  cry  is  "  Re 
member  Evelyn  !  "  sometimes  vary  it  with  "  Poor 
Eva!     Lovely  Eva!     Who   would  strike   Eva?" 
The  story  of  this  tragedy,  to  be  true,  must  show 
that  Mr.   Adams  knew  his  brother's  bride  both 
long  and  well. 

11.  If  Bartow  is,  as  we  think,  innocent  of  all 
connection  with  this  crime  save  as  witness,  why 
does  he  show  such  joy  at  its  result  ?     This  may 

282 


Answered 

not  reasonably  be  expected  to  fall  within  the  scope 
of  Thomas  Adams's  confession,  but  it  should  not 
be  ignored  by  us.  This  deaf-and-dumb  servitor 
was  driven  mad  by  the  fact  which  caused  him  joy. 
Why?* 

12.  Notice  the  following  schedule.  It  has  been 
drawn  up  after  repeated  experiments  with  Bartow 
and  the  various  slides  of  the  strange  lamp  which 
cause  so  many  different  lights  to  shine  out  in  Mr. 
Adams's  study  : 

White  light — Water  wanted. 

Green  light — Overcoat  and  hat  to  be  brought. 

Blue  light — Put  back  books  on  shelves. 

Violet  light — Arrange  study  for  the  night. 

Yellow  light — Watch  for  next  light. 

Red  light — Nothing  wanted ;  stay  away. 

The  last  was  on  at  the  final  scene.     Note  if  this 

^  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  scraps  of  writing  in  Felix's 
hand  had  not  yet  been  found  by  the  police.  The  allusions  in 
them  to  Bartow  show  him  to  have  been  possessed  by  a  jealousy 
which  probably  turned  to  delight  when  he  saw  his  master  smitten 
down  by  the  object  of  that  master's  love  and  his  own  hatred. 
How  he  came  to  recognize  in  the  bride  of  another  man  the  owner 
of  the  name  he  so  often  saw  hovering  on  the  lips  of  his  master, 
is  a  question  to  be  answered  -by  more  astute  students  of  the  laws 
of  perception  than  myself.  Probably  he  spent  much  of  his  time 
at  the  loophole  on  the  stairway,  studying  his  master  till  he  under 
stood  his  every  gesture  and  expression. 

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The  Circular  Study 

fact  can  be  explained  by  Mr.  Adams's  account  of 
the  same. 

Two  paragraphs  alone  lacked  complete  explana 
tion.  The  first,  No.  9,  was  important.  The  de 
scription  of  the  stroke  dealt  by  Mr.  Adams's  wife 
did  not  account  for  this  peculiar  feature  in  Bar- 
tow's  pantomime.  Consulting  with  the  inspector, 
Mr.  Gryce  finally  approached  Mr.  Adams  and  in 
quired  if  he  had  strength  to  enact  before  them  the 
blow  as  he  had  seen  it  dealt  by  his  wife. 

The  startled  young  man  looked  the  question  he 
dared  not  ask.  In  common  with  others,  he  knew 
that  Bartow  had  made  some  characteristic  gestures 
in  endeavoring  to  describe  this  crime,  but  he  did 
not  know  what  they  were,  as  this  especial  bit  of 
information  had  been  carefully  held  back  by  the 
police.  He,  therefore,  did  not  respond  hastily  to 
the  suggestion  made  him,  but  thought  intently  for 
a  moment  before  he  thrust  out  his  left  hand  and 
caught  up  some  article  or  other  from  the  inspec 
tor's  table  and  made  a  lunge  with  it  across  his 
body  into  an  imaginary  victim  at  his  right.  Then 
he  consulted  the  faces  about  him  with  inexpressible 
anxiety.  He  found  little  encouragement  in  their 

aspect. 

284 


Answered 

"You  would  make  your  wife  out  left-handed/' 
suggested  Mr.  Gryce.  "  Now  I  have  been  watching 
her  ever  since  she  came  into  this  place,  and  I  have 
seen  no  evidence  of  this. " 

"  She  is  not  left-handed,  but  she  thrust  with  her 
left  hand,  because  her  right  was  fast  held  in  mine 
I  had  seized  her  instinctively  as  she  bounded  for 
ward  for  the  weapon,  and  the  convulsive  clutch  of 
our  two  hands  was  not  loosed  till  the  horror  of  her 
act  made  her  faint,  and  she  fell  away  from  me  to 
the  floor  crying:  'Tear  down  the  cross  and  lay  it 
on  your  brother's  breast.  I  would  at  least  see 
him  die  the  death  of  a  Christian.' ' 

Mr.  Gyrce  glanced  at  the  inspector  with  an  air 
of  great  relief.  The  mystery  of  the  constrained 
attitude  of  the  right  hand  which  made  Bartow's 
pantomime  so  remarkable  was  now  naturally  ex 
plained,  and  taking  up  the  blue  pencil  which  the 
inspector  had  laid  down,  he  wrote,  with  a  smile,  a 
very  decided  "answered"  across  paragraph  No.  9. 


285 


CHAPTER   VII. 

LAST  WORDS. 

A  FEW  minutes  later  Mr.  Gryce  was  to  be  seen 
in  the  outer  room,  gazing  curiously  at  the  various 
persons  there  collected.  He  was  seeking  an  an 
swer  to  a  question  that  was  still  disturbing  his 
mind,  and  hoped  to  find  it  there.  He  was  not 
disappointed.  For  in  a  quiet  corner  he  encoun 
tered  the  amiable  form  of  Miss  Butter  worth, 
calmly  awaiting  the  result  of  an  interference  which 
she  in  all  probability  had  been  an  active  agent  in 
bringing  about. 

He  approached  and  smilingly  accused  her  of 
this.  But  she  disclaimed  the  fact  with  some  heat. 

"  I  was  simply  there,"  she  explained.  "  When 
the  crisis  came,  when  this  young  creature  learned 
that  her  husband  had  left  suddenly  for  New  York 
in  the  company  of  two  men,  then — why  then,  it 
became  apparent  to  every  one  that  a  woman  should 
be  at  her  side  who  understood  her  case  and  the  ex 
tremity  in  which  she  found  herself.  And  I  was 

that  woman." 

286 


Last  Words 

"You  are  always  that  woman,"  he  gallantly  re 
plied,  "  if  by  the  phrase  you  mean  being  in  the 
right  place  at  the  right  time.  So  you  are  already 
acquainted  with  Mrs.  Adams's  story?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  ravings  of  a  moment  told  me  she 
was  the  one  who  had  handled  the  dagger  that  slew 
Mr.  Adams.  Afterward,  she  was  able  to  explain 
the  cause  of  what  has  seemed  to  us  such  a  horrible 
crime.  When  I  heard  her  story,  Mr.  Gryce,  I  no 
longer  hesitated  either  as  to  her  duty  or  mine. 
Do  you  think  she  will  be  called  upon  to  answer 
for  this  blow?  Will  she  be  tried,  convicted? " 

"  Madam,  there  are  not  twelve  men  in  the  city 
so  devoid  of  intelligence  as  to  apply  the  name  of 
crime  to  an  act  which  was  so  evidently  one  of  self- 
defence.  No  true  bill  will  be  found  against  young 
Mrs.  Adams.  Rest  easy." 

The  look  of  gloom  disappeared  from  Miss  But- 
terworth's  eyes. 

"Then  I  may  return  home  in  peace,"  she  cried. 
"  It  has  been  a  desperate  five  hours  for  me,  and  I 
feel  well  shaken  up.  Will  you  escort  me  to  my 
carriage?  " 

Miss  Butterworth  did  not  look  shaken  up.  In 
deed,  in  Mr.  Gryce's  judgment,  she  had  never  ap 
peared  more  serene  or  more  comfortable.  But  she 
287 


The  Circular  Study 

was  certainly  the  best  judge  of  her  own  condition; 
and  after  satisfying  herself  that  the  object  of  her 
care  was  reviving  under  the  solicitous  ministrations 
of  her  husband,  she  took  the  arm  which  Mr.  Gryce 
held  out  to  her  and  proceeded  to  her  carriage. 

As  he  assisted  her  in,  he  asked  a  few  questions 
about  Mr.  Poindexter. 

"Why  is  not  Mrs.  Adams's  father  here?  Did 
he  allow  his  daughter  to  leave  him  on  such  an  er 
rand  as  this  without  offering  to  accompany  her?  " 

The  answer  was  curtness  itself : 

"  Mr.  Poindexter  is  a  man  without  heart.  He 
came  with  us  to  New  York,  but  refused  to  follow 
us  to  Police  Headquarters.  Sir,  you  will  find  that 
the  united  passions  of  three  burning  souls,  and  a 
revenge  the  most  deeply  cherished  of  any  I  ever 
knew  or  heard  of,  have  been  thrown  away  on  a  man 
who  is  positively  unable  to  suffer.  Do  not  men 
tion  old  John  Poindexter  to  me.  And  now,  if  you 
will  be  so  good,  tell  the  coachman  to  drive  me  to 
my  home  in  Gramercy  Park.  I  have  put  my  finger 
in  the  police  pie  for  the  last  time,  Mr.  Gryce — 
positively  for  the  last  time. "  And  she  sank  back 
on  the  carriage  cushions  with  an  inexorable  look, 
which,  nevertheless,  did  not  quite  conceal  a  quiet 

complacency  which  argued  that  she  was  not  alto- 
288  ' 


Last  Words 

gether  dissatisfied  with  herself  or  the  result  of 
her  interference  in  matters  usually  considered  at 
variance  with  a  refined  woman's  natural  instincts. 
Mr.  Gryce,  in  repressing  a  smile,  bowed  lower 
even  than  his  wont,  and,  under  the  shadow  of  this 
bow,  the  carriage  drove  off.  As  he  walked  slowly 
back,  he  sighed.  Was  he  wondering  if  a  case  of 
similar  interest  would  ever  bring  them  together 
again  in  consultation  ? 


THE    END. 


289 


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